The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. She woke up choking and belching water. " Jonathan made no reply, but ordered his myrmidons to drag the prisoner along.
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