Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Jerking forward, she jabbed backwards. One day it was gone. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point. The Well Hole 336 XIII.
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