His fingers fumbled over his waistcoat, but did not find it.

The weapon of defence and attack, the symbol of interrogation and incomprehensibility, was gone.

Beauty Steele was under the eyes of another self, and neither disdain, nor contempt, nor the passive stare, were available.

He got suddenly to his feet, and started forward, as though to find refuge from himself.
The abrupt action sent the blood to his head, and feeling a blindness come over him, he put both hands up to his temples, and sank back on the couch, dizzy and faint.
His motions waked Jo Portugais, who scrambled from the floor, and came towards him.
"M'sieu'," he said, "you must not.

You are faint." He dropped his hands supportingly to Charley's shoulders.
Charley nodded, but did not yet look up.