"Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. "I have not many days,—perhaps, not many hours to live. . ’ ‘When you begin to tell the truth,’ Gerald told her severely, ‘I shall be happy to believe you. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. It is no good arguing about a thing like that. But I shan't let him off thus. “Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. She let out a delighted laugh. “Your friend, “DAVID COURTLAW.
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