Then he stopped. For the Lady Rakshasi, too, was on her feet, panting and furious. The dusty emerald of her eyes was now the cold, burning green of glacial ice. Even in her outrage, her quick mind grasped the implication of his words.
"No other man, my Lord? Then they were right! Thou are no god, but only a pretender! And Sugriva has lied. Well, he shall pay for his deceit. And you, too, poor mortal thing who prefers a pallid shadow to Rakshasi, you, too, shall regret this night. Go!"
She pointed a rage-trembling finger to the door. With a sick helplessness Ramey realized he had spoiled everything. To stay here now, to argue with this unreasoning amazon, would only make matters worse. He left.
In the late morning he woke from a tortured slumber to find Red Barrett leaning over him, shaking him. The brick-top was grinning mockingly.
"Boy, you sure were knocking 'em off. Know what time it is? Almost ten. Stir your stumps, keed; we got stuff and things to do today. Golly, your eyes look like a pair of frayed button-holes! If we was back in our own, honest-to-gosh time, I'd say you was out on a bender last night."
Ramey said drowsily, "Not a bad idea at that. When we do get back to our own time, which I hope will be soon, we'll have to give it a try, Red. A good one."
"Here's your pants," said Red. "Got good news this morning, anyhow. Know what happened during the night? That big, overgrown hunk of yellow nastiness and his gang pulled up stakes and scrammed out of here. I'm sure glad to see the last of him, ain't you? Though I got to admit that sister of his was a snappy looking—what's the matter, Ramey?"
Ramey, fully conscious now, was pawing anxiously through the tumbled silks and furs that were his bed. "Where is it?" he demanded. "Have you seen it?"
"Seen what?"