It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. She screamed involuntarily—she had never in her life screamed before—and then she began to wriggle and fight like a frightened animal against the men who were holding her. He knocked at the door. "Rather cramped, eh?" "Rather so, Sir," replied the other, altering his position.
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