One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. And all the third act is love-sick music. My little maidservant will think that I am lost. Mr. You remember that you saw us at the Savoy a few evenings ago?” “Yes. Although Martha did not know it, she had her pistol and her daggers, and her knife.
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