He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. “There are two things to be done,” he said softly to himself. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. There was no answer. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. I will come later to see you, Melusine. Love…. Promptly Ah Cum wired the information to O'Higgins in Hong-Kong.
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