Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. ” She replied. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. Why hadn't he gone on with the girl's story? What instinct had stuffed it back into his throat? Why the inexplicable impulse to hurry this rather pathetic derelict on his way? CHAPTER XV Previous to his illness, Spurlock's mind had been tortured by an appalling worry, so that now, in the process of convalescence, it might be compared to a pool which had been violently stirred: there were indications of subsidence, but there were still strange forms swirling on the surface—whims and fancies which in normal times would never have risen above sub-consciousness. "Shall I fetch it for you, Sir?" "By all means.
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