CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. Good night. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. ” He asked questions and listened to her views for a time. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech. Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction.
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