On returning to the audience-chamber, Jonathan found the inanimate body of Thames Darrell lying where he had left it; but, on examining it, he remarked that the pockets were turned inside out, and had evidently been rifled. “I——” The door opened, and the doctor entered softly. Coffee à la Turque wasn't so bad; but a guy couldn't soak his breakfast toast in it. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. Moving to the shuttered window, Melusine dragged the heavy drapes back. Her hair once more was arranged with its old simplicity. "Let the gentleman take his own course," said Jonathan, mildly.
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