His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House. Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. " "No," thundered Wild. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. . You tonic my liver and you tonic my soul.
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