’ ‘A French ghost?’ ‘Well, it ain’t a rat this time, Major, I can promise you that,’ Pottiswick had rejoined, his tone affronted. Sheila grabbed the gun and laughed hysterically, brandishing the weapon and baying like a bear. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. Wood. " "Beat out their brains, you mean," rejoined Blueskin with a tremendous imprecation; "no half measures now, Master.
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