She listened, listened intently for several minutes. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. Agents were dispersed in all directions—offers the most tempting held out to induce the wavering to join the Chevalier's standard. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. It was below consciousness, elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively. While this was effected, intelligence was brought that a formidable mob was pouring down Field Lane, the end of which was barricaded. White,” the lady in black satin remarked. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness.
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