Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. As to Mrs. ‘Tell me what you know of Miss Charvill?’ he ordered severely. Lucy tried not to make her cringe noticeable. Stanley. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London.
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