"We must stick together to-night!" he said. "Now, Cavanagh, let us see if we can find any explanation of this amazing business. I can understand that at one period of the slipper's history you were an object of interest to those who sought to recover it; but if, as you say, the Hashishin have the slipper now, what do they want with you? If you have never touched it, they cannot be prompted by desire for vengeance."
"I have never touched it," I replied grimly; "nor even any receptacle containing it."
As I ceased speaking came a distant muffled rumbling.
"That's the thunder," said Hilton. "There's a tremendous storm brewing."
He poured out three glasses of whisky, and was about to speak when Soar held up a warning finger.
"Listen!" he said.
At his words, with tropical suddenness down came the rain.
Hilton, his pipe in his hand, stood listening intently.
"What?" he asked.
"I don't know, sir; the sound of the rain has drowned it."