"My father!" she whispered. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. She could not see any relief from this anxiety except repayment, and repayment seemed impossible. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. ‘We don’t know who she is. On these were thrown all the horrible contents of Jonathan's museum, together with the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. I saw them both.
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