He made a show of examining the arms against the walls, the brocaded hangings with their wonderful design of faded gold, the ivory statuettes, the black god who sat on his haunches and into whose face seemed carved some dumb but eternal power.

Movement was in some respects a solace, but the sound of a hansom bell tinkling outside was a much greater relief.

He crossed to the windows and looked out over the somewhat silent square.

A hurdy-gurdy was playing in the corner opposite the club, just visible from where he stood.

The members were passing in and out.