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Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. He hesitated for a moment and then he followed her. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview. "How are you off there, Shoplatch?" inquired Kneebone. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat.
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