He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. She caught her finger in the lock and had to ask him to help pry it out. She wished he could smoke and dull his nerves a little. “I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her. But did you ever hear of a djinn in a blue-serge coat? Stitched in!" Something like this was always rushing into his throat; and he had to sink his nails into his palms to stop his mouth. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant.
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