Are you sure you're not misinformed, Sir?" "I was in the Lodge at the time," replied the jailer. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. "Get it over quickly," said Trenchard, in a whisper to the thief-taker. “I suppose you’ll come to the point soon—if there is one. I shall have to discover one suitable. 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. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. You complain of a condition, but you leave the correction to someone else. She waited expectantly.
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