It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. \"Mike, don't call Lucy a liar. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt. Ever hear of the djinn in the bottle? Like enough. In the floor were set four ring-bolts, about nine feet apart. She kept her eyes closed. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand.
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