Instantaneously the Asiatic disappeared, thrust back into its habitual
latency within the prison of European: Prince Victor was as he had been, as
always to the world, cool, composed, and crafty, master, never creature, of
his emotions.
A faint buzzing was audible, broken by muffled clicks.
Rising, Victor approached a table in a corner and with a key from his
pocket ring unlocked a heavy casket of bronze. As he raised its cover a
small electric bulb illuminated the interior, focussing on the
paper-covered face of a mechanical writing device, upon which a pencil with
a broad flat lead operated by a metal arm was tracing characters resembling
the hieroglyphics of the Chinese.
When the clicking ceased and the pencil was at rest, Victor caught an end
of the paper and pulled it forward until a blank surface again occupied the
writing-bed. Upon this with another pencil he inscribed a reply, then
closed and relocked the casket.
Back at the table with the lamp, the message just received became crisp
black ash on a brazen tray.
From a locked chest Victor produced an inverness and a soft hat of black
felt. Wearing these he moved quietly out of the lamp's radius of light, and
made himself one with the shadows that crowded one another round the walls.
He did not leave by the hall door; but of a sudden the room was untenanted.
VII
THE FANTASTICS
Downstream from The Pool, a little way below Shadwell, an uncouth row of
dilapidated dwellings in those days stood--or, better, squatted, like a
mute company of draggletail crones--atop a river-wall whose ancient blocks,
all ropy with the slime of centuries, peered dimly out through groups of
crazy spiles at the restless pageant of Thames-life.
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