At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. But eventually Spurlock laughed. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. Kneebone, he took his departure. END OF THE FIRST EPOCH. I know now that I was mistaken. But I trusted to that ring of yours. In doing this, he chanced to raise his eyes and half fancied he beheld, shaded by a pillar at the extremity of the western aisle, the horrible countenance of the thief-taker. “I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister. “Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master's throat on the slightest inkling of treachery.
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