A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. "Well, Sir?" cried the other, eagerly. It was hard to meet that gaze. But at least it gave her more time. His hand flew across the paper. To Spurlock, in this hour, his conscience stood over against the Ten Commandments, one of which he had broken. She had been careless. And sometimes he overflowed with a peculiarly malignant wit that played, with devastating effect, upon any topics that had the courage to face it.
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