He had led his guest upstairs into a bare white-washed room, furnished in wicker.

Open windows admitted the damp sea breeze and a smell, like foul gun-barrels, from the river marshes.

"Where should all the rats be coming from ?" He frowned, meditating on what Rudolph thought a trifle.
Above the sallow brown face, his chestnut hair shone oddly, close-cropped and vigorous.

"Maskee, can't be helped .-- O Boy, one sherry-bitters, one bamboo!" "To our better acquaintance," said Rudolph, as they raised their glasses.
"What?
Oh, yes, thanks," the other laughed.

"Any one would know you for a griffin here, Mr.Hackh.