" "We waste time with this fellow," interposed Sir Cecil, "and may lose the object of our quest, who, beyond doubt, has taken refuge in this building. ‘You and Jarvis Remenham both, yes. After Capes had finished the Scotchman’s troubles he went back into the preparation-room. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. There will be no avoiding it. ’ ‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again. Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall.
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