’ There was a silence. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. He sat down. The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more. But Darrell averted his head. “You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead. Anticipating this, Wild avoided the shot by suddenly, ducking his head. It was hot and dry. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. ’ ‘Parbleu,’ burst from Melusine indignantly.
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