Irregularly, in a quite inglorious and unromantic way, you know, I am a vicious man. A sinister thought edged in. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. “Let me see,” he said. Why, there's another party on the stair-head inquiring arter scullers; and, by the mass! they appear in a greater hurry than any on us. He looked at her guiltily.
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