The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. It was an overcast day, albeit not foggy, and the electric light shades glowed warmly, and an Italian waiter with insufficient English took Ramage’s orders, and waited with an appearance of affection. Then, when the tension was getting unendurable, and she was on the verge of speaking to some casual passer-by and demanding help, her follower vanished. Ann Veronica felt no repulsion at the prospect. Framed in one of the square ports of the packet was a face which reminded Ah Cum of a Japanese theatrical mask. She had no inkling of that insupportable wrong. This person was speedily followed by half a dozen others, some of whom carried flambeaux.
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