Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. Seems as she don’t trust soldiers easy. “I know that our social order is dreadful enough,” he said, “and sacrifices all that is best and most beautiful in life. . . Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. I have sinned deeply; but I have been sorely tried. To vault over the pews was the work of a moment; and having gained the entry leading to the Red Room he passed through the first door; his progress being only impeded by the pile of broken stones, which he himself had raised.
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