‘No, you don’t. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. Saws, hammers, planes, axes, augers, adzes, chisels, gimblets, and an endless variety of tools were ranged, like a stand of martial weapons at an armoury, in racks against the walls. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning.
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