At first they could distinguish nothing, then from outside the window came a persistent sigh which gradually deepened into a full-throated roar.
"The Rains," breathed Joan with a catch in her throat. "In a moment we will hear the flutes."
Out in the hall someone knocked on the door.
"Third time's the charm," said Jaro, and drew the slug gun.
Landovitch said: "He won't be expecting me. When he shoots you I ought to be able to catch him by surprise."
"Maybe I should allow you to answer the door."
"Go on." Landovitch waved his gun. "I'm right behind you, but out of the line of fire, of course."
Jaro threw open the door. Both men thrust their guns in the face of the little Mercurian waiter who had served the food.
"I'm growing accustomed," the waiter said; "to your peculiar sense of humor." He marched between the two big men, closed and locked the heavy storm shutters, marched back out. Joan burst into peals of laughter. Jaro and Landovitch sheepishly returned their guns to their holsters.