“Never mind. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing. He wanted to talk with the patient, test him variously; and he wanted to be alone with him while he put these tests. “Now you must go,” she said firmly. She still had her letter of credit. A father is in debt, we'll say. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. “In any case, there is probably some mistake.
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