Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. ‘There are no Remenhams left. Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. This is my friend, Mr. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. CHAPTER XX.
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