"That craven hound Maraglia has upset the light," muttered Basil. "I cannot see you."
"Can you not feel my presence?" came the gibbering reply.
"Even so!"
"Know you what high powers of night control your life—what dark-winged messengers of evil fly about you?"
"Your words make my soul flash like a thunder cloud."
"And yet does your power stand firm?"
"It rests on deep dug dungeons, where the light of heaven does not intrude. I spread such fear in men's white hearts as the craven have never known."
A faint chuckle came in reply.
"Only last night I saw you in the magic crystal sphere in which I read the dire secrets of Fate. Above your head flew evil angels. Beneath your horse's hoofs a corpse-strewn path."
"The time is not yet ripe."