Selingman leaned across the table.
"Coulois," he whispered, "the wolves bay loudest at night, is it not so ?" The man sat quite still.

If such a thing had been possible, he might have grown a shade paler.

His eyes glittered.

He looked steadfastly at Selingman.
"Who are you ?" he muttered.
"The wolves sleep in the daytime," Selingman replied.
The dancer shrugged his shoulders.

He held out his glass to be replenished.