They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. ’ ‘How can it be in dispute?’ frowned Mrs Sindlesham. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. ‘Parbleu, that pig, he will ruin all. Dead or alive, I'll have him.
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