Albert-terrace loomed large and black, their blackness pierced irregularly by luminous windows. Above, starlight.
Both men had been silent, lost apparently in their own thoughts, mere dim black figures to each other, until one had seen fit to become a voice also, with this confidence.
"Yes," he said, after an interval, "my nose has always stood in my way, always." The second man had scarcely seemed to notice the first remark, but now he peered through the night at his interlocutor. It was a little man he saw, with face turned towards him.
"I see nothing wrong with your nose."
"If it were luminous you might," said the first speaker. "However, I will illuminate it."
He fumbled with something in his pocket, then held this object in his hand. There was a scratch, a streak of greenish phosphorescent light, and then all the world beyond became black, as a fusee vesta flared.
