And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. ” “To a friend?” “To lodgings—alone. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Everything, my dear, everything!. I did not know that you had even 244 started writing a symphony.
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