The telegram dispatched, his obligation cancelled, Ah Cum proceeded homeward, chuckling occasionally. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. 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. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. She was like an angel with one wing.
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