The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not. The latch had not fully caught. That dress is thirty years old, if a day. And also she didn’t like them. I often wonder why the young always take us ancients for nambypamby creatures. Having no means of defence, Sir Rowland cleared the blood from his vision; and, turning to see whether there was any means of escape, he descried the open door behind him leading to the Well Hole, and instantly darted through it.
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