In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. However good you were to me, and however happy I was in other ways, I should find this intolerable. There was a fourth story; but he never told either Ruth or McClintock about this. Spurlock slept on. What news. Your face has flitted out of my watch-fire, and then I have been a haunted man. . In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. " CHAPTER IX. He seemed to be thinking hard.
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