"We?" queried Scranton.
"Yes; my friend Carter here is going along. Indeed, without Bill at my side, I don't know that I would care to face this thing."
"Me?" I exclaimed. "Where did you get that? I didn't say that I was going."
"That is true, Bill," Milton laughed; "you didn't say that you were going."
A silence ensued, during which Scranton sat in deep thought, as, indeed, did Milton Rhodes and myself. What did it all mean? Oh, what was I to make of this wild, this fantastic, this fearful thing?
"There is no necessity," Scranton said suddenly, "for the warning, I know; and yet I can't help pointing out that this adventure that you are about to enter upon may prove a very dangerous, even a very horrible one."
"Yes," Rhodes nodded; "it may prove a very dangerous, a very horrible adventure indeed."
"Why," I exclaimed, "all this cabalistic lingo and all this mystery? Why not be explicit? There is only one place that the angel could possibly have come from, this wonderful and terrible creature that says Drome and has a demon for her companion."
"Yes, Bill," Milton nodded; "here is only one place. And it was from that very place that she and her demon came."
"Good Heaven! Why, that supposition is absurd. The thing's preposterous."