" "Mr. Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. " "Then you are taking me on?" Spurlock's eyes grew soft like those of a dog that, expecting the whip, saw only the kindly hand. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. Another glass, Jack. I want you. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well.
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