Again having recourse to the centre-bit,—for Winifred's door was locked,—Jack had nearly cut out a panel, when a sudden outcry was raised in the carpenter's chamber. Perhaps I deceived you about it. She was the actress his whim had chosen to play a passive part. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. She had to have him, her body was going crazy for the want of sex. Advancing towards him, he made him a formal salutation, which was coldly returned. ‘Damnation! Too late. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. It was 1582. His two wives have been here.
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