" As he spoke, a smile crossed Sheppard's countenance. ‘I know that, miss. There was no longer any risk in association with her. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. "I am no murderer," replied Sheppard. They fell into step again.
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