” “And I,” Courtlaw said, “although I have asked before in vain, have come to ask you once more the same thing. And this damning evidence―’ with a brusque gesture at the portrait ‘―must also be destroyed. Then he opened them again suddenly, to find Courtlaw still by his side. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. The weed was all right. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. ‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies.
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