Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. There was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily upon the landing. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. “I can’t endure it,” she said. Oh, it is unbearable.
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