To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. . " "What for? What do you want of them?" "Why, they are … yours. " "Here he is!" cried Ireton, as the knocking was heard without. The grim mockery of it!—those South Sea loafers, taking advantage of Enschede's Christianity and imposing upon him, accepting his money and medicines and laughing behind his back! No doubt they made the name a byword and a subject for ribald jest in the waterfront bars. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. Something is feeding upon them. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you. Spurling.
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