They were all here at the Tavern, her little company. They had come here for a late dinner; Soloman, Anthony Hope, Scott Ramsey, Pietro, Tom and Jensie were by the fireplace.
Now as Jeanne felt the urge to retreat she said to Jensie in a tone that came from down deep in her throat, “There were two black horses and a coffin. I saw them.”
“Yes,” Jensie agreed. “There were. And, Jeanne,” her voice took on an air of mystery, “last night the organ played again.”
“It played again?” Looking into the mountain girl’s eyes, Jeanne thought she detected there a curious unwonted gleam, but she said not another word as they wandered back to their place by the fireside.
CHAPTER XXVI
CARRIED AWAY IN THE NIGHT
Florence awoke with a start. She sprang to her feet. Where was she? She knew on the instant, or thought she knew. But truly, where was she? Cold fear gripped her heart. All the bright glory of the Fair, the changing lights, splashing fountains, clashing rocket cars had faded into mere nothing, a dull blue against the horizon.
Was she going blind? Men had gone blind in just that way. She rubbed her eyes, then looked at her hand. She could see it, indistinctly it is true, but with plenty of detail.
She looked over the rail. Black water was all about her. The old ship swayed slightly. To her ears there came the sound of a motor.
“But this old ship has no motor. Byrd took it out before he passed through the Panama Canal.”
For all this, she was convinced that the ship was in motion. She looked up. Masts, but no sails.