Chapter 23
CATHEWE ASKS QUESTIONS The hunter of butterflies rubbed his released wrists and ankles, tried his collar, coughed, and dropped his legs to the floor. "I am getting old," he cried in self-communion; "near-sighted and old. I've worn spectacles so long in jest that now I must wear them in earnest." "How long have you been here?" asked Fitzgerald. "I should say about two hours. It was very simple. He came to the door. I opened it. He came in. Zut! He is as powerful as a lion." "Why didn't you call?" "I was too busy, and suddenly it became too late. Gone?" "Yes." And Fitzgerald swore as he rubbed the side of his head. Briefly he related what had befallen him. "You have never hunted butterflies?" "No," sharply. "Shall we start for him while his heels are hot?" "It is very exciting. It
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