Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. But did you ever hear of a djinn in a blue-serge coat? Stitched in!" Something like this was always rushing into his throat; and he had to sink his nails into his palms to stop his mouth. He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music. The whole affair interested him deeply. Still, he was puzzled because McClintock had not spoken. She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. Previously to his descent he had left the nail and spike on the wall, and with these he fastened the blanket to the stone coping. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not.
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