” He raised his hand, and they saw that he was holding a small revolver. E. 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. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. I defy you to explain it away. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths.
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