stout, and too tightly dressed for comfort, received him uneasily, a
dark-eyed girl befriended him with a look and a quiet word, while a tall
man, nodding a vigorous mop of silver hair, crushed his hand in a great
bony fist.

"Mrs. Earle," Heywood was saying, "Miss Drake, and--how are you,
padre?--Dr. Earle."

"Good-evening," boomed the giant, in a deep and musical bass. "We are
very glad, very glad." His voice vibrated through the room, without
effort. It struck one with singular force, like the shrewd, kind
brightness of his eyes, light blue, and oddly benevolent, under brows
hard as granite. "Sit down, Mr. Hackh," he ordered genially, "and give
us news of the other world! I mean," he laughed, "west of Suez.
Smoking's allowed--here, try that!"

He commanded them, as it were, to take their ease,--the women among
cushions on a rattan couch, the men stretched in long chairs. He put
questions, indolent, friendly questions, opening vistas of reply and
recollection; so that Rudolph, answering, felt the first return of
homely comfort. A feeble return, however, and brief: in the pauses of
talk, misgiving swarmed in his mind, like the leaping vermin of last
night. The world into which he had been thrown still appeared
disorderly, incomprehensible, and dangerous. The plague--it still
recurred in his thoughts like a sombre motive; these friendly people
were still strangers; and for a moment now and then their talk, their
smiles, the click of billiards, the cool, commonplace behavior, seemed a
foolhardy unconcern, as of men smoking in a powder magazine.

"Clearing a bit, outside," called Nesbit. A little, wiry fellow, with