"No great distance. May I ask if Lady Coverly knew of your proposed visit?"
"She did not," I said with surprise.
"Then I fear your journey has been fruitless. She is an invalid and can receive no one."
There was something peremptory and imperious in his manner which I resented, and evidently perceiving this resentment:
"I am Lady Coverly's medical adviser," added the Eurasian. "Possibly I can afford you some assistance. In any event I fear you will have to accept my poor hospitality for the nonce. The alternative is a drenching."
Even as he spoke, the hollow was illuminated by a blinding flash of lightning, and indeed his last words were drowned in the thunder that boomed and crashed in deepening peals over the hills.
In a sudden tropical torrent the rain descended, and I stepped forward into the room. Its occupant rose to his great height to greet me.
"I am Dr. Damar Greefe," he said, and bowed formally.
I made myself known to him in turn, and with a sort of stately courtesy he set a high-backed chair for me and himself resumed his former seat.
"You are a stranger to this neighborhood, I gather?" he continued.