‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. " "Say the word, and I'm mum," returned the executioner. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. Stop it. The challenge gave her courage. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. Contests were held every year, the type of which depended on her caprice. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut.
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