There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. F. "Your name is Spurlock?" "It is. As for that, what man ever had? "That's a remarkable young woman," he offered, merely to note what effect it would have. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. "Well, I'm glad she's spared this. Wood's. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. . ’ Trodger frowned, and chewed his lip.
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