"What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. Or felt it. Again having recourse to the centre-bit,—for Winifred's door was locked,—Jack had nearly cut out a panel, when a sudden outcry was raised in the carpenter's chamber. "Wasn't he in some way connected with the Jacobite plots?" "He was," replied Thames.
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