He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Melusine opened her eyes at him. "Is your person in danger?" "Not from my creditors," replied Wood, significantly. The man’s hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips. He donned his winter coat. I’ll make any reasonable arrangement you like. Long ago. Master Thames Ditton, I'll do your biddin'; and you, Misther Quilt Arnold, may do your worst, I defy you.
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