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. " "What motive can you have for so vile a deed?" asked Mrs. . The policy of this step was immediately apparent. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. Sir Rowland then fell. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. " "My conscience acquits me of all share in the offence," replied Jack, humbly. Playing became a way of escape.
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