"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. " And she burst into a wild hysterical laugh. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank. Courtlaw rose to his feet. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. Wild is incapable of such baseness. Occasionally he revealed tidbits about his past after a good kill. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. Hurry.
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