9. " This sally occasioned a general laugh. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument. Here your nephew will speedily be thrown. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle.
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