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. . "You are arrested for high treason," rejoined Wild, presenting a pistol at his head, while he drew forth a parchment,—"here is my warrant. White is psychologically gifted. Success to our enterprise!" "Success to our enterprise!" echoed the others, significantly. ’ The lady looked unexpectedly smug. It was Celeste’s idea.
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