"That I shall before a day has passed, but not for the moment. We are face to face now with the most dangerous crisis that has yet occurred. The enemy can strike us down one by one, and nobody shall dream that there is anything beyond a series of painfully sudden deaths. Failure of the heart's action the doctors would call it. That is all."
At that moment Tchigorsky returned to the room. No longer was he in the disguise of an Indian. Perhaps he had donned it to surprise Geoffrey; perhaps he was just discarding the disguise after putting it to some practical use. To him Ralph repeated all that Geoffrey had said.
He followed with the most rapt and most careful attention.
"Danger, indeed," he said gravely, "the danger that moves unseen on the air, and strikes from out of nothingness. I prophesied something like this, Ralph."
"Ay, my friend," Ralph replied, "you did. But not quite the same way."
"Because I did not know that fortune had placed the medium so close at hand. Where are the bees?"
Geoffrey was listening intently. Up to now he had failed to understand why his story had moved Ralph so profoundly. And what could the bees have to do with it? Yet Mrs. May had mentioned bees.
"They are in two hives outside the morning-room window," said Ralph. "The bees are Vera's pets, and they thrive for the most part along the flower borders of the terrace. They are ordinary bees."
"In the ordinary bar-frame hives of course?"
"Oh, yes, they are quite up to date. You can see the insects working and all that kind of thing. The hives can be moved."