She heard the sounds of Rhea scuttling about, and then feeding, brutally. “But Sebastian! I need them!” He smiled, not a smile of comfort, but a smile of terrible menace. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. Is this man Hill dead?” She shook her head. She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage.
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