"Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. 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. “Afterwards it seems to me that there are no limits to what one may not do amongst one’s own set. Why should you want to shield him?" "I really don't know. He found the horse where Thames told him he would find him, mounted, and rode off across the fields in the direction of town. Near the body, which, it will be surmised, was that of Abraham Mendez, two ruffianly personages were seated, quietly smoking, and bestowing no sort of attention upon the new-comers. "Is it wrong, then, to surrender to good impulses?" "In the present instance, yes.
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