Yet it seemed to me then that, dreaming or waking, this thing with which I was confronted was the last impossibility.

I suppose that I must have stared at him like some wild creature, for the conversation around us suddenly stopped.
Standing upon the threshold, looking around him with the happy air of an habitue, I saw this man to whom I owed my presence in Paris, this man concerning whom I had sworn that if ever I should meet him face to face my hand should be upon his throat.

I remember nothing of my progress, but I know that I stood before him before he was conscious even of my presence.

I addressed him by name.

I believe that even my voice was not upraised.
"Tapilow!" I said.
He turned sharply towards me.