But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. . The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. ‘That’s wicked, that is. He brought another small loaf, and a can with which he replenished the pitcher, recommending Jack to be careful, as he would get nothing further till morning. You are all the beauty in the world. Now do not make me any more arguments, but tell me at once where that pig is gone.
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