" The spinster did not ask if the mother lived; the question was inconsequent. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. . I shall barely be in time for the theatre. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. In this letter, which is addressed to my ill-fated mother, he speaks of his friendship for Sir Rowland, whom it seems he had known abroad; but entreats her to keep the marriage secret for a time, for reasons which are not fully developed. A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. Oh, you must believe me.
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