The last observation, however, caught the attention of the carpenter's wife. Free! All the fine ecstasy, without the numbing terror. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. "We must keep still. "I'm a peace-officer," he added, "about to arrest a notorious criminal. You would not have the slightest difficulty. They rose as she approached. Lives by his wits and gambling.
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