The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. We have that gift. Don’t you know I disinherited the rogue?’ ‘This we knew, milor’,’ said Valade. I am absolutely certain that up to the present we have escaped all notice, and I do not believe that any casual observer would take us for English people. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows.
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