"Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. ’ ‘As if you could stop her. Lucy found solace in the lack of sunshine, but the November cold was over the top, even for Illinois. Winifred pointed to the door. I’ve got nothing to do for a month but think.
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