Sebastian grabbed the infant once again by the chest and it wailed into the air, exposing its rows of shark like teeth. Why hadn't he gone on with the girl's story? What instinct had stuffed it back into his throat? Why the inexplicable impulse to hurry this rather pathetic derelict on his way? CHAPTER XV Previous to his illness, Spurlock's mind had been tortured by an appalling worry, so that now, in the process of convalescence, it might be compared to a pool which had been violently stirred: there were indications of subsidence, but there were still strange forms swirling on the surface—whims and fancies which in normal times would never have risen above sub-consciousness. You've nothing to do but to take possession. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. It’s an instinct.
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