While he was filling his pockets with golden coin from this store, Blueskin had pulled the plate-chest from under the bed, and having forced it open, began filling a canvass bag with its contents,—silver coffee-pots, chocolate-dishes, waiters trays, tankards, goblets, and candlesticks. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. I wanted to, that day in the Zoo. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank. More importantly, she had her wits. Had to. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. The man turned at the exclamation, and so did several of the bystanders; but they could not make out who had uttered it.
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