The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. “Let’s go in here. “I will send you a copy,” Mr. ’ ‘Of what use to be ladylike when I cannot be a lady?’ ‘None of that. Hilary threw up his eyes. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore.
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