Page:The Man Who Died Twice (1924).djvu/58

 Each with a leering courtesy as he went,

Till more than seventy of them disappeared,

Leaving their auditor lying there alone

In a cold sweat, while his impassive master

Frowned, shook his head, and was again a picture.

Fernando Nash, deploring afterwards

This innovation of orchestral rats

As a most arbitrary intermezzo

Between the sordid prelude that was over

And the infernal fugue that was to come,

Smiled wearily, and shrugged his heavy shoulders,

Like one who would be glad to say no more,

Yet must relate the rest to somebody

Before he died. Somebody might believe him;

And it was I, who had not bitten him

(Achilles’ heel was never to be cured),