It wasn’t. She even had books by H. “And you?” “Same thing. “You decline to help us in any way, then,” he said. 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. ‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned.
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