Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world. If Jack should die, all though her fault, she could never forgive herself. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. One of his chair coolies had witnessed the transportation of Spurlock by stretcher to the sampan in the canal. She wasn’t sure of herself when she said it. I’m a hard young woman. Men have seen to that.
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