“This is mere nonsense, mere tongue-tied fear!” she said. “She has been to my flat before. He’s a footman who works for the nuns and has taken up the cudgels on her behalf. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. ‘Ah, well, we’ll check the back and then go home. They were exquisite. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision. She vanished from the laboratory for a week, a week of oddly interesting days. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of.
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