" "Don't scold him, father," interposed Thames; "he's been frightened enough already. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. I will tell you what you shall give me, if you like. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. They were loath to admit to the public that the case would be closed in a few years for sheer lack of forensic evidence. 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.
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