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Nor as I’ve to put up with a French spy in my parlour—’ ‘Peste, how you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently, barely taking in his complaints. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod. Two persons possessing a more comfortable stock of assurance could not be readily found. He seemed to have expected them. Would Gerald wish his friend to follow the man? He had hardly registered the decision that he had best do so, albeit with some reluctance, when his trained senses alerted him to an extraordinary circumstance.
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