Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. The theme was a masquerade. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. “And yet I wonder whether the world ever held such another enigma in her sex. She winked at him as he shut the door. In Darrell's open features, frankness and honour were written in legible characters; while, in Jack's physiognomy, cunning and knavery were as strongly imprinted.
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