His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. From time to time, however, he was baffled. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. " ***** "To me, you dirty blackguard!" cried Spurlock, flinging aside his helmet.
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