'Whether he could or could not, matters nought now. I made a promise.'
'You must break it.'
She shook her head.
'A deal is a deal.'
Then, as both remained silent, suddenly strange sounds were heard high up in the dark sky, a sound as of barking dogs in full career.
Zita shivered and caught hold of Mark.
'Oh!' she said in a whisper, full of fear. 'They scent a soul—they hunt a soul! Oh, poor soul! God help it! Poor soul—run—run—swift—in at heaven's door!'
'Nonsense, little frightened creature! It is the brent-geese!'
'Mark, last time I heard them it betokened death. Then it was two souls—two flying—flying—and the dogs in full career after them.'
'You, Zita,' laughed Mark, 'do you remember when we spoke of this on the ice, I said when next you heard the brent-geese I hoped I might stand by you. Zita, please God, when the hell-hounds, if such they be,—and I don't believe a word of it,—be let loose, scenting my soul or yours, that I may be by you, or you by me, to cheer each other in the final and dreadful race.'