He seized a tray, squatted on the floor, and imitated the tom-tom. "Always plenty to spare. ‘You mean that there is a rival Melusine to the one he has heard about? He does not. ‘If you’ll have the goodness, missie, to move yourself out of the way,’ he said aggrievedly, ‘and let us at him, we might have a chance of doing just that. "I shall want a bottle or two of sack, and a flask of usquebaugh. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. The weed was all right.
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