You’re a little late, you must remember, and we are punctual people here. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. " So saying, he descended a short spiral staircase, and, entering a long stone gallery, from which several other passages branched, took one of them, and after various turnings—for he was familiar with all the intricacies of the prison— arrived at the cell of which he was in search. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. The beautiful gowns and the flashing bare shoulders and arms of the women had disturbed and distressed her. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames.
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