What! mum still. Something in her tone made him look up. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. Rowland, meantime, alarmed by the voices, snatched a torch from his attendant, and holding it over the side of the wherry, witnessed the incident just described. He had particular reasons for wanting to keep Spurlock away from the jetty. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell.
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