Читать книгу The Joss: A Reversion онлайн

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“It is she,” he said, in the same half-stifled voice in which he had spoken before. He had a queer accent. There was no mistaking what he said, but it was certain that his tongue was not an Englishman’s. “You will see me again—yes! Soon! You will remember me?”

Remember him? I should never forget him, never! Not if I lived to be as old as Methuselah. That hideous, hollow-cheeked, saffron-hued face would haunt me in my dreams. I do have dreams, pretty bad ones sometimes. I should see him in them many a time. My head whirled round. The next thing I knew I was in Tom’s arms. He was holding me up against Firandolo’s window. He spoke to me.

“It’s all right now; he’s gone.”

I sighed, and looked round. The wretch had vanished. What had become of him I did not ask, or care to know. It was sufficient for me that he had vanished. As I drew myself up I glanced round towards the restaurant door. Mr. Isaac Rudd’s face was pressed against the glass. Unless I was mistaken, when he perceived I saw him he drew back quickly. I slipped my arm through Tom’s.