Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. At ninethirty he climbed into the chair and signified to Ah Cum that he was ready. "Ha!" he exclaimed, with a sudden start, as his glance fell upon the portrait; "how came this into your possession, boy?" "Why don't you answer, sirrah?" cried Wild, in a savage tone, and striking him with the silver staff. But, as you perceive, I brought it away with me. And this time the departure had a tremendous effect of finality. He encouraged her to join him in his debauchery. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. Her sister had told him that it was true. But Miss Mary and me—’ Melusine looked up as the woman broke off again.
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