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He returned to the car, Cokes in hand. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. I’m glad you could come. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald.
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