"I was going to die, Hoddy!" she whispered. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun. Stanley, “I am anxious. ‘So are you. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night.
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