Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. Great stone staircases leading no one knew whither, and long gloomy passages, impressed the occasional visitor with the idea that he was traversing a building of vast extent; and, though this was not the case in reality, the deception was so cleverly contrived that it seldom failed of producing the intended effect. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him.
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