The doctor reached over and laid his hand upon Spurlock's heart. He ran back to his car, glancing only once at the man in the car. " "Have it, and welcome," rejoined Figg. 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. ‘Open the door, fool!’ Then he had Melusine by the shoulders and was hustling her into the hackney.
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