"On that night,—in this room,—in your presence, Blueskin,— in yours Mr. “How shall I put the question? What am I? What have I got to do with myself?. I haven’t taken much account of it until now. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. About them quickly. 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. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper.
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