Blood will out." He smote his great fist on the desk-top and his laugh was a thunder which reverberated through the room.
"Blood will out?
The blood of John Bard ?" asked Nash.
Drew started.
"Who said John Bard ?" He grew grey again, the flush dying swiftly.

He started to his feet and repeated in a great voice, sweeping the room with a wild glance: "Who said John Bard ?" "I thought maybe this was his son," answered Nash.
"You're a fool! Does he look like John Bard?
No, there's only one person in the world he looks like." He strode again up and down the room, repeating in a deep monotone: "John Bard!" Coming to a sharp halt he said: "I don't want the rest of your story.
The point is that the boy will be here within--an hour--two hours.

We've got work to do before that time." "Listen to me," answered the foreman, "don't let him get inside this house.

I'd rather take part of hell into a house of mine.

Besides, if he sees me--" "He's coming here, but he's not going to see either of us--my mind is made up--neither of us until I have him helpless.".