Half an hour's labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. But there was only Gosse, still struggling with the picture, looking dazedly towards Melusine and the lad he had shot, then away towards the sounds of pursuit, and back again. Then Melusine jumped back into the fencer’s pose, on guard, the point of the wicked blade directed towards her enemy. "I've lost my wager.
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