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” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. She became more assertive, more defiant. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. ’ To his intense satisfaction, mademoiselle burst into laughter. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. You are right. ’ He quirked an eyebrow. The wounded man had descended the bridge, and dashed himself against the door beyond it; but, finding it impossible to force his way further, he turned to confront his assailants.
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