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Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. What right had a young woman to possess the scarring and intimate knowledge of that dreg of human society, the beachcomber? CHAPTER II Ah Cum lived at No. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. She was too late.
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