“Well?” she said, sitting down again. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. ” “I suppose people would say that it is a matter of temperament,” she continued. ’ There was sense in what she said, Melusine was obliged to concede. "I have a client who is very much interested in Mr. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. A species of vertigo seized him. Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough.
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