He might solve the riddle. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. Spurlock grew cold. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. He reached a silver cigar and cigarette box from the sideboard and put it before his father-in-law, and for a time the preliminaries of smoking occupied them both. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. He said. The girl suppressed a chuckle that would have been inexplicable. ‘Hadn’t meant you to know,’ said the nun gruffly.
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