His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire. “Nor am I now,” he answered. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. ’ The snaking suspicion rolled through his mind again. He was no longer in military uniform, and it was evident from his suit of brown brocade that he had been disturbed while preparing for an evening engagement. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. And also she didn’t like them.
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