" "I forgot to mention there's a trifling reward for his capture," cried Shotbolt, popping his head from under the cloth. " "Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority. The spectacle seemed to afford as much amusement to Jonathan as to the actors engaged in it. Not at all. 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. She passed down the stairs and into the street.
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