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Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. " "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. "I'll fetch it. Wild. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. Gone off, cool as you please, and left me to manage everything. But when it came to broaching them, it proved to be much more difficult than she had supposed. Diane spoke first. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. That had shut him up for a while. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs.
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