‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. “My sister is sure to be out. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. "You are my prisoner.
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