Violet Jacob > Flemington

CHAPTER VII
TREACHERY
James did not look as if he had been up all night,
though he had spent the most part of it on foot
with Ferrier. The refreshment of morning had
bathed him too, but he was still harassed in mind
by some of the occurrences of the last few hours.
Last night he had seen the mark on the wrist
stretched suddenly between himself and his friend,
and had understood its significance. It was the
mark that he had put there. As the two men
listened to the flying footsteps that mystified them
by their doublings in the darkness, it had dawned
upon them that the intruder skulking behind the
windlass and the tipsy reveller prone in the close
were one and the same person. The drunkard
was a very daring spy, as sober as themselves.
“You are out betimes,” said Archie, with
friendly innocence.
“ I often am,” replied James simply.
Archie pulled up a blade of grass and began to
chew it meditatively.
“ I see your long night has done you good,”
began Logie. “ There were many things I should
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