Sheppard was enabled to take possession of the premises. He knows everything. 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. “Let’s hope your successor is worthy of you. I am out of your life forever, never having been in it. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls.
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