Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. He dined, and then pleaded a political engagement. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. . ” He looked interrogation with a faint smile. ” He started back as though he had been shot. He would go there. But I'm resolved to see Lady Trafford.
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