Jabez stood for a moment facing them, his chest heaving in convulsive pants. Then crying, "My eyes! My eyes!" crumpled to the floor.
VI
First Harkness was conscious of a wonderful silence. Then into the silence, borne in on the back of the sea breeze, he heard the wild chattering of a multitude of birds. The room was filled with their chatter, up from the trees, crowding the room with their life.
Straight past the window, like an arrow shot from a bow, flashed a sea-gull. Then another more slowly wheeled down, curving against the blue like a wave released into air.
He recognized all these things, and then once again that wonderful blessed stillness. All was peace, all repose. He might rest for ever.
After, it seemed, an infinity of time, and from a vast distance, he caught Dunbar's voice:
". . . Jabez! Jabez! Jabez, old fellow! The man's fainted. Harkness, are you all right? Did he hurt you?"
"No," Harkness quietly answered. "He didn't hurt me. He meant to, though. . . ." Then a green curtain of dark thick cloth swept through the heavens and caught him into its folds. He knew nothing more. The last thing he heard was the glorious happy chattering of the birds.
VII
He slowly climbed an infinity of stairs, up and up and up. The stairs were hard to climb, but he knew that at their summit there would be a glorious view, and, for that view, he would undergo any hardship. But oh! he was tired, desperately tired. He could hardly raise one foot above another.