Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. A slight rain fell at the time; and a few leaves, caught by the eddies, whirled around. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. He believes that he is leaving this conscience behind; and I want to watch his disillusion on this particular point. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. Spurling has induced him to sit down again. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit.
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