The shock of the air-wave was distinctly felt, eloquent of the catastrophe that in a second of time had shattered every plan and hope.
As if an echo of that thunderous, far explosion, a faint wailing of voices--echoing from very far above--drifted eerily along the passage; voices in blended rage and fear, in hate, agony, despair.
"God above--!" the major gulped.

"Captain Alden" whipped her pistol from its holster, not a fraction of a second before the Master's leaped into his hand.

The torchlight flickered on Leclair's service-revolver, and was reflected on the guns of every Legionary.
"If that's the explosive," Bohannan cried, "faith, we're in for it! _Is_ it the explosive that's blown Hell out o' the Black Stone ?" A wild cry echoed down the passage.

The Olema, his face suddenly distorted with a passion of hate, snatched a pistol from beneath his burnous.
"The dogs of Feringistan have spat on all Islam!" he screamed, in a shrill, horrible voice.

"The Black Stone is no more! Vengeance on the unbelieving dogs! _Allah il Allah!_ Kill, kill, and let no dog escape! "Sons of the Prophet! Slay me these dogs! Kill!".