” He said flaccidly. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. Prepared as he was for a dreadful shock, and with his nerves strung to endure it, Jack absolutely recoiled before the appalling object that met his gaze. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. He hadn't followed this angle of thought in ten years: what he might have been, with a little shrewd selfishness. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. “There’s morbid beauty,” said Ann Veronica. ‘Parbleu,’ came indignantly from the lady. "In the devil's name, is that you, Jack!" ejaculated Kneebone. Actually, he had come all this distance simply to fulfil a certain clause in his contract with Fate, to be in Canton on this particular day. "You!" cried Jack, scornfully. Once more he was the searcher.
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