” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. But he tells them that I am a spy. In this screen, which masked the entrance of a dark passage communicating with the Condemned Hold, about five feet from the ground, was a hatch, protected by long spikes set six inches apart, and each of the thickness of an elephant's tusk. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline.
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