"What's that?" asked Wild. "You'll lose no time," said the thief-taker. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. " "Ay, but it is strange how much it resembles somebody for whom it's not intended. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice.
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