“t-w-e-n-t-y-f-i-v-e w-o-m-e-n”
“My God!” muttered Lyngstrand, in a sudden vivid remembrance that stabbed him like a pain. He glanced at Horst.
Jensen glanced also, and was merciless.
“Are you all here?” he asked.
“y-e-s” There was a little pause, “h-u-n-d-r-e-d-s m-o-r-e I d-o-n-t k-n-o-w d-r-o-w-n-e-d o-t-h-e-r s-u-n-k s-h-i-p-s a-l-l h-e-r-e”
Lyngstrand shivered, looked around him uneasily. Jensen’s voice scarcely betrayed a tremor as he pursued.
“What have you come for?”
“w-e h-a-v-e c-o-m-e f-o-r h-i-m”
“No!—no!” screamed Horst, suddenly. “No!—Ach, Gott, schütze mich!”
Both Lyngstrand and Jensen had a sense of inaudible mocking laughter in the air about them. There was an awful silence.