The Night of Madness
They were standing under the open sky of night. Absolute silence lay about them; infinite peace was there, under a multitude of clear, shining stars. The change was so abrupt as to seem momentarily unreal; O'Rourke shook his head, as one would rid his brain of the cobwebs of a dream, then looked about him.
"Where would we be, now, me dear?" he asked.
"Hush!" she cried guardedly, pointing.
His gaze followed the line of her arm, and he discovered that they were standing upon a hillside over across from the Inn of the Winged God. Its doors and windows were flaming yellow against the night; and set square against the illumination of the main entrance, O'Rourke could see the burly bulk of Chambret. Without, in the road, loomed the black and shining mass of a powerful automobile, its motors shaking, its lamps glaring balefully—seeming a living thing, O'Rourke fancied, very like some squat, misshapen nocturnal monster.
But Chambret did not stir; and from that the Irishman' knew that his ten minutes was not yet up. Nevertheless, he tightened his hold upon the hilt of the naked saber which he still carried, and started back toward the inn.
The girl caught him by the arm.
"Where are you going?" she demanded.
"Back." O'Rourke looked down upon her in surprise. "Back to my friend. What! Am I, too, a chicken-heart, to leave him there, alone—?"
"M'sieur Chambret," she interrupted, "is master of the situation, M'sieur le Colonel. He can take care of himself."
"You know him?"
"You—you—" For an instant she stammered, at a loss for her answer. "I—I heard you name him, m'sieur," she made shift to say at length.
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