The affair was thick with sinister suggestions. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. Must be plenty of work for you to do. But he tells them that I am a spy. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. I cannot tell you much about it, but my bad times are over for the present.
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