Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. On examining the door, he found it secured by a large rusty lock, which he endeavoured to pick with the nail he had just acquired; but all his efforts proving ineffectual, he removed the plate that covered it with the bar, and with his fingers contrived to draw back the bolt. And also she didn’t like them. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. She had not at first the power for concealment.
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