Yet he stays. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. I’ll do it. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. And yet he knew that his skill was equal to that of any fashionable practitioner in Hong-Kong. Soon I shall make my début, that it will be known that I am the real Melusine Charvill, and then I shall not require the services any longer of this imbecile of a Gérard.
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