The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. Perhaps the old fool was not as fanciful as they had thought. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. Until the last moment she was afraid. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. If you choose to requite me by detaining me, you are at liberty to do so. Sir Rowland, who had continued absorbed in thought, with his eyes fixed upon the sloop, as she made her way slowly down the river, disembarked more leisurely.
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