“For me there is no second turn. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. Together they crept through the erstwhile drawing room and entered the massive flagged hall. At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. It was the grand nursery of vice. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek.
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