Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Hope reared. He parried without apparent effort. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. ‘It is London’s loss, ma’am. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know.
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