" "Devilish hard! I'm not allowed a chance," grumbled Austin, as he was left alone. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. You won't refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter. The fates are never so kind to me. And the sergeant, having carried out all Melusine’s instructions as if they had come out of his own head, went up to check on his patient, apparently at last convinced that his prisoner would not attempt to run away. I suppose I ought to have been a man. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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