Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. Find your man, that’s the rule. The mock astonishment of his face immediately became genuine. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Cursed him for his devotion that had made him come back for her, only to get himself shot by the fiendish Gosse.
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