A sound of voices. A flash of light. A feeling of freedom, and I was awake!
Where?
Still by Drearwater Pond. No phantoms, no shadow, nothing unreal, save the memory of that which I have but dimly described. That was but as a terrible nightmare—an awful dream.
Where was Kaffar?
I could not tell. Certainly he was not near; but two other forms stood by me, one bearing a lantern.
"Is it you, Justin?" said a voice.
"It is I, Tom," I said, looking vacantly around.
"And where is Kaffar?" said another voice, which I recognized as
Voltaire's.
"Kaffar? I—I do not know."
"But you have been together."