And experience was slow in coming. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. But though she lied about pretty much everything else, she didn’t lie about that. Cautioning the knight, if he valued his neck, to tread carefully, Jonathan then descended a steep flight of steps; and, having reached the bottom in safety, he pushed open a door, that swung back on its hinges as soon as it had admitted him; and, followed by Trenchard, entered the night-cellar.
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