. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully. “I don’t know how, but I always manage to find a 164 fiddle if there is one around. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. You know—if you want freedom. " Upon this he arose, and paced the room hastily backwards and forwards, as if further arranging his plans. " "A very sufficient reason," answered the jailer. ‘But so also it is downstairs.
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