" "Perhaps that was it. “That is very nice of you,” she said. “You will be so late. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient. ’ Melusine rose from her chair in sudden irritation. "Something more than whisky did that. . I do not admit the truth of a word which you have said. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. He lives near the Black Lion. If you attempt to play the traitor, you will do so at the hazard of your life. ‘And I’d like to know what the devil—’ ‘Out of town?’ repeated Melusine, stupefied.
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