"That's an incorrigible rascal," he added, as Sheppard closed the door; "it's only to-day that I discovered—" "What?" asked Jackson, pricking up his ears. One of his chair coolies had witnessed the transportation of Spurlock by stretcher to the sampan in the canal. In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. "Hell's curses!" roared Jonathan. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. CHAPTER XVII.
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