“I am so sorry to have startled you,” she said, “but I was startled myself. The door popped open with a sigh. “Does he live here?” he asked her presently. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. He must be a sly fox to get out of the Mint without my knowledge.
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