He knocked on the doorframe. Then he lifted the black cloak-like garment from the floor. Racing, he reached it perhaps a moment or two later. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other. For on reaching the second floor, a swishing sound came to Gerald’s ears, as of someone moving about. The risk I run is nothing to yours. He drew compellingly upon his new characters to keep him out of this melancholy channel; but they ebbed and ebbed; he could not hold them. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned.
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