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“I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. "I haven't quite recovered the fright I got in the Vell-Hole," replied Abraham. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. The two hostlers, however, kept close at his heels; and Jack, whose strength began to flag, feared he could not hold much longer.
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