In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. For a space he rode the whirligig. It might be dangerous to thwart him. Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. But with Gosse and the woman in prison here, there is always the chance that the whole affair may be raked up all over again. ‘Poor Mary had no idea about the elopement Nicholas had undertaken,’ she told Gerald. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts.
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