“You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. . The carte de jour was before Monsieur. It will take at least three weeks. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. His curiosity put itself into a question. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes.
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