" "A boy from his shop was here a short time ago. What's it like, Joan?" "It's a small key, with curiously-fashioned wards. I never forgive an injury. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem.
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