Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. He resented being regarded as irregular. His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table. It seemed to encapsulate the mosquito like a little piece of moonlight, it was talismanic to her. “It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side. “I’ll go,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall find you out.
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