Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. “The very question, my dear sister,” she said, “tells me that I have succeeded. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion.
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