Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. She found him reclined, watching television in a small guest room hidden in a back wing of the massive house. In the struggle the pistol went off, but without damage to either party. "Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance.
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