Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. ” “And I also,” Brendon echoed. I loathe this room. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. He strangled the infant, which slipped out of his hands and screamed. Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence. She laughed altogether in her old manner.
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