She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. " "'The avenger of blood himself shall slay the murderer'," said Wood, who was culling for himself certain texts from the scriptures. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. He classified her as he seated himself. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. Besides, Gerald would not for the world have passed up the chance of a little excitement.
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