Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. Every one turned to her in astonishment. He leaned forward to better drink her in. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. " "Law! Miss," observed the maid, "there's nothing mischievous in the person's appearance, I'm sure. ” She leaned back amongst the cushions of her chair. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them.
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