The Master's lips smiled, a little; his black eyes softened, and for a moment his face assumed something that might almost have made it akin to those of men who feel the natural passions of the heart.

Never before, in all his stern, hard life, had the Master's expression been quite as now.
"Who can she be, I wonder ?" he mused.

"A woman like that, possessed of that extraordinary beauty; a woman with education, languages, medical skill; a woman with courage, loyalty, and devotion beyond compare, and with all the ardor for service and adventure that any man could have--who can she be?
And--damn it, now! Who am I, to be thinking of such nonsense, after all ?" His eyes fell on the table.

Something lay there, agleam with the sunlight flicking blood-red spots from a polished metal surface.

What could this thing be?
Surely, it had not lain there, the night before.
The Master wrinkled heavy brows, focussing his sight on this metal object.