CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. Her knees were trembling, her whole frame was shaken with sobs. She was dropped off at 2:30 at Whitefield Park, a huge extravagantly lit field in the new part of town. She took hand cannon and began to arm it. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling supported by huge uncovered rafters, and so low as scarcely to allow a tall man like himself to stand erect beneath it. Sebastian crouched on the floor with a single dead victim, a young highwayman. Here, might be seen a poor fellow whose teeth were knocked down his throat, spluttering out the most tremendous menaces, and gesticulating like a madman: there, another, whose nose was partially slit, vented imprecations and lamentations in the same breath. She stepped backwards. Sheppard trembled violently; and though she understood his meaning too well, she answered,—"I can't guess. Besides ——” She stopped short. But if I were you, I shouldn't warn Spurlock. I’ll pay it.
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