“Don’t be silly!” she cried—so suddenly! And she laughed at his humility, shattering it—and then, shattering her laughter, came a great noise and thundering through the stone hall, so that they were shocked into staring silence.
“Good God, what’s that!” Ivor whispered.
They started to the door; and again that thundering through the stone hall shattered the stillness and marred the dignity of Sir Aram Melekian’s tomb.
“It’s the front door,” whispered Pamela Star.
2
A squat and surly shape confronted them in the night.
“I bin ringin’ this ’ere bell for the larst ’our,” explained the shape with commendable restraint. “And not jest for fun, but to know if you’ve fergotten me or going to keep me till the next war. Bein’ now parst four——”
A convulsive giggle came from behind Ivor’s shoulder in the doorway.
“We’d forgotten the taxi!” said the giggle, quite unnecessarily, for the taxi was very manifest to the eye.
“I’m so sorry,” said Ivor to the driver, and grinned at him. “I quite forgot you....”