"To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. He was staring at her, openly gaping. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. Kneebone, he took his departure. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. There was no one stirring in the flats. But somehow he could not bring any of these affairs to an orderly end.
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