But the driver of the car pointed northward and shouted. Wales could not see his face but he could hear the raw tone of his voice, and caught the one final word, "—coming!"
The other man leaped into the car, after a last look around the empty Diamond. The car shot away down Washington, heading east.
"Why, they've gone, run away!" Martha exclaimed. "They left their partner here and—"
Wales held up his hand. "Listen!"
As the roar of the receding car died away, the sound of singing came again—and this time it was louder, much louder, and there was a steady throb of drums beneath it.
It rolled down from the north and he thought now he could hear the words of a chorus, endlessly repeated.
"Halle-lu-jah! Halle-lu-jah—"
Lights suddenly sprang into being up there on the crest of North Jefferson Street hill. They were not steady lights, they were moving, tossing and shaking, and there were dozens, scores of them. They were torches.
A long, thick snake of burning torches came down the wide street into the dark and lifeless town. Wales could see no people, only the torches, scores of them, hundreds of them. But he could hear the loud chanting of the people who carried those lighted brands.
"Halle-lu-jah—"