"They have come," he whispered, going close to where she sat.
"I know it," she replied, quietly.
"You don't feel afraid, Sybil? You won't draw back?"
"I?" she laughed, in her scornful way.
"Stop that noise!" exclaimed Yates, with a menacing gesture; "you laugh like a ghost."
Mad as he was with liquor and evil passions, there was something so unnatural in that sound that it half sobered him.
While they stood eyeing each other, the door opened, and Dickinson reeled into the room.
"Come down stairs, Phil," he said; "there'll have to be another barrel of whisky got out."
"You are drunk," said the other.