He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. " "Enschede?—her father? What's happened?" McClintock sat down. I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere. That was what she was trying to make him understand. They struck her as cold and indifferent. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. 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. " "Arm yourself with that ruffian's weapons," replied Jack, "and let us search for her.
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