For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. Mama will be expecting me. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. ‘Melusine…Melusine. But he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack. She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time.
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