She was frowning, but it was evident that her initial fright had left her. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. But whither The Tigress was bound or who the owner was lay beyond the reach of Ah Cum's deductions. He would see this sister. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. She still could not muster the strength to leave. All seemed infected with Austin's terrors except Mrs. “Good God!” he exclaimed.
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