Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. The customary gold band was missing; but a soft gold Chinese ring Spurlock had picked up in Singapore—the characters representing good luck and prosperity—was slipped over Ruth's third finger. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not. He leaned forward to better drink her in. " "Didn't the natives have a name for you?" She blushed. There was a flash and a loud report. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision.
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