The doctor shuddered, seeing an inferno of many circles. But the coward in him did not rise again. There was the gleam of a distant light upon him, unquenchable and serene. He doubted the eternity of the triumph of this Valentine, though he knew not why he doubted, nor upon what his doubts were based.
And as this doubt, which was a faith, blossomed within him he had a fancy that the music of the Litany wavered, faltered—that through it ran a thrill like a faint shadow of some dull despair.
At this moment Valentine spoke in the darkness.
"What are you doing, Julian?" he asked, quickly.
"Nothing," Julian answered.
"I heard you whisper."
"I only said something to Cuckoo."
"We must not talk. Let us link our fingers instead of only touching each other."
They all did so and were silent once more.
* * * * *