She could tell that he was furious in that instant. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. " "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood. Brown broke the silence. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. "And now," cried Jack, leaping up, "for an achievement, compared with which all I have yet done shall be as nothing!" CHAPTER XVII.
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