The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. And thus he was once more free, having effected one of the most wonderful escapes ever planned or accomplished. ‘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. ‘Nevertheless, you will marry me,’ he snarled. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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