“Where have you been? All these hours I have been calling for you. They were those of the Irish watchman. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. ’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. But let the horses be in readiness. ‘Speak, then. "Souls," she answered, drily. " "I never doubted the latter point, I assure you, Madam," observed Mrs.
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