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. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. " "One word before I go," urged Blueskin. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. “Do you see why you cannot survive in the world without me? The world is full of mundane things, Lucia, but it is also full of terrible things.
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