His infernal chatter would reveal us, for it seemed to me that there was no one in the place except us and the magic-workers.
Then suddenly the spell was broken.

The door was flung open and a great gust of icy wind swirled through the hall, driving clouds of ashes from the braziers.

I heard loud voices without, and a hubbub began inside.

For a moment it was quite dark, and then someone lit one of the flare lamps by the stage.

It revealed nothing but the common squalor of a low saloon--white faces, sleepy eyes, and frowsy heads.
The drop-piece was there in all its tawdriness.
The Companions of the Rosy Hours had gone.