As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. As they neared the house, Jack Sheppard, who led the way, halted and addressed his companion in a low voice:— "I don't half like this job, Blueskin," he said; "it always went against the grain. It had gone with the rest. Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night.
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