"I'm glad to hear it, that's all," he added, taking out his snuff-box, his never-failing resource in such emergencies. He died when I was. It is no good. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months.
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