The coachman having received his order, and being offered an extra fare if he drove quickly, set off at full speed. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. Her efforts were vain. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. There was more to be told, and this was as good a time as any. What is the use of it? I do not wish to marry you. What'll you be doing?" "What can I do?" asked Spurlock, raising his haggard face. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. ‘Laisse-moi.
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