I've sent for the priest. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. He looked fiercely and inquiringly from one to the other of his companions; but, though both of them were excessively frightened, neither appeared guilty. He, a Chinaman, troubling himself over Occidental ideas! With his hands in his sleeves, he proceeded on his way. Jonathan, however, still lingered. What other reason could there be? It’s more complex, but it’s better. Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt.
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