" With this, he drew the spike from his pocket; and, drowning the sound of the operation by whistling, singing, shuffling, and other noises, contrived, in a few minutes, to liberate his companion from the handcuffs. “Idiotic, isn’t it?” “Absolutely,” she agreed coldly. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. 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. I never want you to be ashamed of me. He temporized, and the girl raised her eyes once more to his. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness.
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