Hill was seated. "Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. “I think you are getting to understand me better. "I give you one minute for reflection. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face. He cherished her. Thus, in a few minutes, had this happy family been plunged into the depths of misery. Still silence everywhere. This he carried on by procuring witnesses to swear away the lives of those persons who had incurred his displeasure, or whom it might be necessary to remove. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee.
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