Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. The doctor turned quickly and made for the door, which he opened and shut gently because he was assured that Ruth was listening across the hall for any sign of violence. They thought that she was her own mother. ’ Joy rose in Melusine’s bosom. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. Had to. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits.
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