You cannot—shall not retreat. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. "To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. ‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. “Well, I don’t feel like standing it. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut.
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