" "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. I set myself to find employment. On the other hand, there was a subconscious impression that she would be able to read instantly anything unclean in a man's eye. If so I shall have to leave. John, I shall eat that whole tin of sardines.
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