The whole force of the constables, jailers and others was required to keep the crowd out of the Hall. You're an angel of goodness. The danger or difficulty of an exploit never appalled him. But you are Annabel. 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. Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him.
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