The fingers of his one hand opened and shut convulsively, his arms worked up and down, his face twitched, his teeth showed like a beast's as he glared at Ferrol.

He looked as though he were about to spring upon the now helpless man.

But up from the garden below there came the sound of a voice--Christine's--singing.
His face quieted, and his body came to its natural pose again, though his eyes retained an active malice.

He turned to go.
"Remember what I tell you," said Ferrol: "if you publish that lie, you'll not live to hear it go about.

I mean what I say." Blood showed upon his lips, and a tiny little stream flowed down the corner of his mouth.