” An awkward moment of silence followed. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. I went off to round up his wife. But you will, you will. Here are your indentures, if you choose to seek another master. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. He got up brusquely. ‘I have the means to compel you. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. CHAPTER VII. .
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