silk cushions, and a fine possum rug lined with dull red cloth was doubled across the foot of it. Another such rug lay on one of the chests. The small table had on it a fine Chinese enamel jar used for tobacco, a cigarette box of bronze, and a tortoise-shell cigarette case inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The two floor rugs were, like the one by the bed, of old Indian work, with faded flowers trailing along a strong red ground. The predominance of this colour everywhere warmed up the gray unpainted floor and the weather-beaten walls. From this section of the verandah three French doors opened into one large room with the windows at present shaded by silk curtains, the colour of burnished copper.
Dane leaned down to caress two Airedale terriers that stood looking expectantly up at him. Then he told them to lie down. They watched him as he got into the hammock with the grace of a woman, and then they settled obediently on the floor underneath him. Dane drew beside him the scarlet table, lit a cigarette, searched among the cushions for a book, a volume of plays by Chekov which he had left there, and finding it, fixed the pillows at a comfortable height and began to read.
After a short time Lee rose up beside him like a mushroom.
“What is it?” There was a trace of irritation in his voice.
“The lady tell me to give you a message, Meester Barrington.”
“Lady? What lady?”
“The lady who trespass.”
“Oh well, what? Was it only one lady?”
“Yes, sir. And she very angry. She say to tell you she is Valerie Carr. She say it many times and she say ———”
