Again silence. He stood transfixed. Consternation gripped him. There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. " And, dexterously applying the implement, he forced open the lock.
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