A species of vertigo seized him. He was caressing an idea. ‘If you’ll have the goodness, missie, to move yourself out of the way,’ he said aggrievedly, ‘and let us at him, we might have a chance of doing just that. ‘What now?’ ‘Now,’ she answered flatly, ‘you will please to tell me at once why you have come here. ‘You mean—’ ‘Hilary!’ Lucy turned excited eyes back to Alderley. This time they would call it murder. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss.
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