White——” “No more,” Sydney Courtlaw begged, laughingly. It was very much like a real house, with one central stalagmite that looked like a column and a waterfall that served when she wanted to bathe. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. We are going to have this chap writing books one of these days. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. “None, I thank you,” he answered.
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