There was no response. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. "Vill this do?" demanded the constable, taking the candle from the lantern, the better to display the narrow limits of the hole. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively.
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