His shut hand was pressed with all his force to his heart, and the first breath he was conscious of was a deep wild sob or two that quivered from his heart as he looked from the lobby-window upon a landscape which he did not see.
All he had ever suffered before was mild in comparison with this dire paroxysm.

Now, for the first time, was he made acquainted with his real capacity for pain, and how near he might be to madness and yet retain intellect enough to weigh every scruple, and calculate every chance and consequence, in his torture.
Sir Bale, in the meantime, had walked out a little more excited than he would have allowed.

He was still convinced that Feltram had stolen the note, but not quite so certain as he had been.

There were things in his manner that confirmed, and others that perplexed, Sir Bale.
The Baronet stood upon the margin of the lake, almost under the evening shadow of the house, looking towards Snakes Island.

There were two things about Mardykes he specially disliked.
One was Philip Feltram, who, right or wrong, he fancied knew more than was pleasant of his past life.
The other was the lake.