The latter seemed inclined to advance and address the former; but suddenly changing his mind, he shouted to his companion in tones familiar to the stranger's ear; and, striking spurs into his steed, dashed off at full speed along the Edgeware Road. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. “I do not wish to use this. The Tigress went prowling for nut, too. Strange, I shouldn't know him when he called on me. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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