The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. My father died a year ago, by the way. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. ‘The secret passage!’ It did not take long to find the mechanism of the candlesconce that opened the door.
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