“The Enmity of Ages is ended!”
“It is ended!” repeated the tall one.
“It is finished! Thy work is done—and mine—and thine”—indicating Ravalette—said the seer. “Henceforward, there is rest for the weary—there is rest for thee! No longer doomed to walk the earth, we three quit it. Our paths diverge from this moment. Above our heads is a scroll, on which is written—
‘Ye may be Happy yet!’ ”
“Thank Heaven!” said Dhoula Bel.
“Thank Heaven!” repeated the Stranger.
“It is finished!” said Beverly, and, as he spoke, Dhoula Bel moved behind the screen, and, the very instant that he did so, there came the sharp crack of fire-arms in the hall and on the stairs, accompanied with any amount of oaths uttered in not very choice French.
Immediately, running to the door along with the Commissary of Police and one of his comrades, I demanded to know the cause of the disturbance.
“By the Holy Evangelists! I fired straight into his head, and it didn’t faze him an inch!” said the sergeant.
“And I struck him square in the middle of the head, and that didn’t harm him in the least!” said another.