Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 198: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GUY HAMMERSLEY. 189 come Mrs. Westmore that she could not at the mo- ment make any reply. She sank down on a divan behind her and mutely beckoned for Guy to approach. The latter had already sprung to the door and tried — it. But he found it firmly secured. ‘Ts that the only exit?’ Mrs. Westmore asked him in a horror-stricken voice. ‘‘The maniscrazy. I ought to have seen it before. All his oddness is explained now.” While she was speaking Guy had hurried across the room toward a curtain that hung at the farther end, and which he had just observed. ‘Yes, here is a door,” he cried exultantly ; and instantly the other two had flown to his side. It was a portiére, and beyond it lay a bedroom, most completely furnished, and, what was more to the purpose under present circumstances, with three doors. Guy sprang at the first of these and pulled at the knob. But it resisted his efforts. The next he found opened, but it led only to a large cedar closet. The third one was ajar and gave access to a perfectly appointed bath-room, which had no other door. He turned back from this last trial with a blank face. ‘‘We are prisoners, then?” said Mrs, Westmore, scarcely able to pronounce the words. She was leaning against the window sash in the bedroom, and as she ceased speaking turned almost instinctively and looked down. It was all of twenty feet to the ground and an areaway of stone giving entrance to the kitchen, ran along just underneath, Gomiecboo <)