CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. I must leave England to-night. I did not reckon upon—him. “I am staying at the Savoy. I will tell you our plans on the way to the station. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed.
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