’ ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Gerald uttered in a rueful tone. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. His last actions were futile. Great stone staircases leading no one knew whither, and long gloomy passages, impressed the occasional visitor with the idea that he was traversing a building of vast extent; and, though this was not the case in reality, the deception was so cleverly contrived that it seldom failed of producing the intended effect. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door.
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