His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. “What do you mean?” she asked. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. Very romantic and all that. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents—bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls were broken and scattered about in all directions. Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs.
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