. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. Her eye met his four inches away, and his was glaring, immense, and full of resolution, a stupendous monster of an eye. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. My death, probably. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda.
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