If he slept he was unaware of it, the magic joy so
equally penetrated his waking and subconscious hours, the feeling of an
elevation higher than years and mountains was so strong. The morning, he
found, was again cold, and clear. He must go out to Jaffa, where new
blast machines demanded attention; but, the day after--
His thoughts were broken by a sharp rap on the outer door. Mr. Stephen
Jannan was below, and demanded to see him immediately. Stephen's
appearance at the hotel at that early hour, he recognized, was unusual.
But a glance at his cousin's serious aspect showed him at once that the
reason was urgent. Stephen Jannan, as customary, was particularly
garbed; and yet he had an expression of haste, disturbance. He said at
once, in the bedroom where Jasper Penny was folding his scarf.
"That young waster, Culser, Daniel Culser, was shot and killed in Mrs.
Scofield's house last evening."
The ends of the scarf fell neglected over the soft, cambric frills of
his shirt. Jasper Penny swallowed dryly. "At what time?" he asked.
"He was seen in the Old White Bear Tavern at about seven, then
apparently he went back to the woman's. The servant said he found the
body at something past nine, and that there had been no other caller but
yourself.
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