The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. "Where am I?" asked Spurlock. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. Miss Ellicot, for instance, considers me a most improper person. Well, it had to happen somewhen.
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