Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman. You did not find him, but did you find his pistol? In the room beyond the bookroom there—a big room where a table had fallen. Briefly, with a careless wave towards the couple, the comtesse presented them as Monsieur and Madame Valade. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out. “I shall never be able to thank you.
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