This time there wasn't any doubt. "I have saved the executioner a labour, by cutting his throat," replied Blueskin. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. There came to Spurlock the recurrence of the grim resolution of what he had set out to do: that comradeship was all he might ever give this exquisite creature; for she was exquisite, and in a way she dominated this picture of sea and sky and sail. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. I know nothing about this affair, but some one has been burning documents.
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