But there was only Gosse, still struggling with the picture, looking dazedly towards Melusine and the lad he had shot, then away towards the sounds of pursuit, and back again. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Only him big hoss padlock—noting else. Wild here presently, and I wouldn't for the world—Zounds!" he exclaimed, as the figure of the thief-taker appeared at the wicket, "here he is. Voilà tout.
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