'" "Slave?" echoed Jack. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. As matters now stand, I'm only a thief, not a blackguard. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. And yet, as she rose slowly to her feet and stood looking at him with outstretched hands, a strange mixture of expressions shining in her wonderful eyes, he realized in some measure the strength of her determination, felt the utter impotence of anything which he could say to her. ‘I suppose this is the cavalier you had with you when you—er—attended the ball the other night?’ ‘Jacques is very useful to me,’ Melusine confirmed, bestowing that same radiant smile on the young man, whose features were instantly suffused with scarlet. And, mind, it's for his sister, Lady Trafford.
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