For a space the path ran beside the crumbling wall, then it diverged from it, winding darkly into the very heart of the jungle.

Monck walked without hesitation.

He evidently knew the place well.
They came at length upon a second clearing, smaller than the first, and here in the centre of a moonlit space there stood the ruined walls of a little native temple or mausoleum.
A flight of worn, marble steps led to the dark arch of the doorway.
Monck stretched a hand to his companion, and they ascended side by side.
A bubbling murmur of water came from within.

It seemed to fill the place with gurgling, gnomelike laughter.

They entered and Monck stood still.
For a space of many seconds he neither moved nor spoke.