It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. They were drenched with water and suds. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. .
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