But whither The Tigress was bound or who the owner was lay beyond the reach of Ah Cum's deductions. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Drummond patted him on the shoulder. Melusine giggled, and tucked her hand into his. ‘Come, cry a truce. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. So Monday, when I see one of the maids come out with a basket, for to go fetch summat for that other Frenchie—the female as I told you about, miss, as is forever coming and going with the nobs. He grabbed her legs and threw the covers from the bed. Wood brought up. Just my room. But this calm was more awful than the previous roaring of the blast.
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