A slow heavy thumping started up in Melusine’s chest, and she scarcely took in the astonished silence in those present in the room. "She has flown up stairs," replied the widow. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. There was a little pause between them, full for Ann Veronica of rapid elusive suspicions and intimations. I've an idea it'll be that long before the chap gets up.
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