Ann Veronica ignored her friend’s confusion. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. The island castle at Port Herculis had been part of the trade off, all to be kept as quiet as the circumstances of her second marriage and her “suicide”. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. .
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