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He had buckled on his hanger, and had two brace of pistols in his belt, as well as others in this holsters. Sir John felt and looked several years younger. ‘You do not understand, Gérard. It is quite light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun. Why hadn't he gone on with the girl's story? What instinct had stuffed it back into his throat? Why the inexplicable impulse to hurry this rather pathetic derelict on his way? CHAPTER XV Previous to his illness, Spurlock's mind had been tortured by an appalling worry, so that now, in the process of convalescence, it might be compared to a pool which had been violently stirred: there were indications of subsidence, but there were still strange forms swirling on the surface—whims and fancies which in normal times would never have risen above sub-consciousness. It was the girl.
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