But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. Katy had sneered at her for a moment, their eyes locking. "All's bowman, my covey. Montague Hill do not interest me in the least. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. A few words passed between him and the thief-taker as the latter came up; after which, all the party—with the exception of Quilt, who was left on shore —embarked within the wherry, which was pushed from the strand and rowed swiftly along the stream—for the tide was in its favour—by a couple of watermen. The detective backed out slowly and closed the door without sound. Not afraid of me, either.
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