Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. The detective backed out slowly and closed the door without sound. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. They are long gone.
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