What seemed to be a great relief relaxed his features. “You have! And isn’t she extraordinary?”
“She?”
“You say you’ve seen her,” he went on hurriedly.
“Her? Him, man—black as Tartarus. And he cut me over the head.”
“There?” Lithway drew his finger down the place.
“Yes. How did you know? I don’t feel it now.”
“Look at yourself.”
He handed me a mirror. The slash was indicated clearly by a white line, but there was no abrasion.
“That is very interesting,” I managed to say; but I really did not half like it.
Lithway looked at me incredulously. “She has never had a weapon before,” he murmured.