CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. ” “If it were all true,” he said doggedly, “it may still be possible. She remembered possessing it during the Gold Rush. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow. Go to her and tell her. 132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. With an open hand, he slapped her face. When he recovered his mental faculties, he would lie there, neutral; they could save him or let him die, as they pleased; and the doctor knew that he would wear himself out forcing his own will to live into this neutrality. Do not be a fool, Jacques. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. They buried him in Willesden churchyard after the robbery. Show him no quarter, Poll. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking.
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