"In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood. Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. Seizing her hand he covered it with kisses. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. But it’s as you say. Perhaps you will now explain the alarm.
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