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He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. This did not affect Spurlock. Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil. Uttering a few inarticulate ejaculations,—for he was completely out of breath,— the fugitive placed a bundle in the arms of the carpenter, and, regardless of the consternation he excited in the breast of that personage, who was almost stupified with astonishment, he began to divest himself of a heavy horseman's cloak, which he threw over Wood's shoulder, and, drawing his sword, seemed to listen intently for the approach of his pursuers. ” “Why?” she asked.
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