The knight, who could ill brook this familiarity, instantly arose. —I'll soon find you out. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. “Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra. Our mutual safety requires it. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. Pah! What a pig is this générale. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. ” “But—” “He left her alone. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. ] THE RAGGED EDGE BY HAROLD MACGRATH AUTHOR OF DRUMS OF JEOPARDY, ETC.
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