The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. "However, some one must look after the jail; and they're all gone but me. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest.
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