Gradually the rats, silent and leaping, passed away into the darkness, as though they heard the summons of a Pied Piper.
"It doesn't attack Europeans." Heywood still used that curious inflection.
"Then my brother Julien is still alive," retorted Doctor Chantel, bitterly.
"What do you think, Gilly ?" persisted Heywood.
His compatriot nodded in a meaningless way.
"The doctor's right, of course," he answered.

"I wish my wife weren't coming back." "Dey are a remember," ventured Wutzler, timidly.

"A warnung." The others, as though it had been a point of custom, ignored him.

All stared down, musing, at the vacant stones.
"Then the concert's off to-morrow night," mocked Heywood, with an unpleasant laugh.
"On the contrary." Gilly caught him up, prompt and decided.

"We shall need all possible amusements; also to meet and plan our campaign.
Meantime,--what do you say, Doctor ?--chloride of lime in pots ?" "That, evidently," smiled the handsome man.