’ They passed through a little antechamber, and Melusine sighed with relief as she entered the library next door. Out of all this we have struck a sort of harmony. 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. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. They found out Cris had some sort of criminal past, more child abuse stuff of course.
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