" He departed, musing. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her. “Well, I have said what I had to say, stumblingly and badly, and baldly. ’ ‘She is no longer a mystery,’ Gerald said. \" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. You shall have your reward.
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