“I do what I can,” he replied, with a bow.
“And Mr. Von Holzen,” inquired Mrs. Vansittart, stopping for a moment as she moved towards the doorway, which is large and hung with curtains—“does Mr. Von Holzen work from purely philanthropic motives also?”
“Well—yes, I think so. Though, of course, he, like myself, will be paid a salary. Perhaps, however, he is more interested in malgamite from a scientific point of view.”
“Ah, yes, from a scientific point of view, of course. Good night, Mr. Roden.”
And she left him.
CHAPTER V. OUT OF EGYPT.
“Un esclave est moins celui qu'on vend que celui qui se donne”
A sea fog was blowing across the smooth surface of the Maas where that river is broad and shallow, and a steamer anchored in the channel, grim and motionless, gave forth a grunt of warning from time to time, while a boy with mittened hands rang the bell hung high on the forecastle with a dull monotony. The wind blowing from the south-east drove before it the endless fog which hummed through the rigging, and hung there in little icicles that pointed to leeward. On the bridge of the steamer, looking like a huge woollen barrel surmounted by a comforter and a cap with ear-flaps, the Dutch pilot stood philosophically at his post. Near him the captain, mindful of the company's time-tables, walked with a quick, impatient step. The fog was blowing past at the rate of four or five miles an hour, but the supply of it, emanating from the low lands bordering the Scheldt, seemed to be inexhaustible. This fog, indeed, blows across Holland nearly the whole winter.