For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. Anna was singing as she used to sing. “You are in luck, Miss Pellissier,” he declared. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face. " "Stick the spike into him, then," returned Sheppard, coolly, "while I unbar the outlet.
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