Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. Emile looked at her, then down, and clearly caught the bright gleam on the floor. Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. She goes out and comes home. "And now, I've one further request," faltered Jack; "though I scarcely know how to make it. “I am so sorry to have startled you,” she said, “but I was startled myself. We just want to ask her a few questions about an old murder case. But they were too late. She’s a snob. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland. The wine bubbled and seethed; and the exquisite bouquet of oranges permeated the room.
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