’ ‘But I have told you not,’ she protested. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. The dizziness made the trees sickening, the smell of Michelle’s perfume soapy and revolting. “I’m sorry. "Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. Ennison kicked it away with his foot. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered.
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