CHAPTER VII.
THE SERPENT IN THE GARDEN "Now, you old sinner! Let's hear your valuable piece of information!" Carelessly Ralph Dacre sauntered forth again into the moonlight and confronted the tatterdemalion figure of his visitor.
The contrast between them was almost fantastic so strongly did the arrogance of the one emphasize the deep abasement of the other.

Dacre was of large build and inclined to stoutness.

He had the ruddy complexion of the English country squire.

He moved with the swagger of the conquering race.
The man who cringed before him, palsied, misshapen, a mere wreck of humanity, might have been a being from another sphere--some underworld of bizarre creatures that crawled purblind among shadows.
He salaamed again profoundly in response to Dacre's contemptuous words, nearly rubbing his forehead upon the ground.

"His most noble excellency is pleased to be gracious," he murmured.