...
I descended into the hall, and there upon the steps, looking at me with
black, beady eyes, deep set in his wrinkled face, was my friend, or
rather my enemy, Nagaski. He eyed my approach with gloomy disfavor.
He opened his mouth in a seeming yawn, a little, red tongue shot out from
between his ivory teeth. Then I heard him called by a familiar voice, and
passing out, I found his mistress leaning back in the corner of Lady
Dennisford's victoria.
She welcomed me with a slow, curious smile.
"I will get out," she said. "There is something I should like to say to
you."
I handed her down. She led the way on to the terrace. A few paces behind,
Nagaski, with drooping head and depressed mien, followed us. When we
halted, he sat upon his haunches and watched me.
"Nagaski," I remarked, "does not seem to be quite himself to-day."
"It is your presence," she answered, "which affects him. He dislikes
you."
I looked at him thoughtfully. If Nagaski disliked me, I was very sure
that I returned the sentiment to a most unreasonable extent.
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