"Stay out of there—I tell you, Roady! Stay out of there! It's something that mortals should n't see—it's something—stay out—stay out!"
"I won't—unlock this door!"
"I can't do it—the time has n't come yet—I must n't—"
"You won't—well, there 's another way." A crash, the sudden, stumbling feet of a man, then the scratching of a match and an exclamation: "So this is your immortal, eh?"
Only a moaning answered, moaning intermingled with some vague form of a weird chant, the words of which Fairchild in the musty, dark hall below could not distinguish. At last came Squint's voice again, this time in softened tones:
"Laura—Laura, honey."
"Yes, Squint."
"Why did n't you tell your sweetheart about this?"
"I must n't—you 've spoiled it now, Roady."
"No—Honey. I can show you the way. He 's nearly gone. What were you going to do when he went—?"