But we only felt that there was a giant's staircase going somewhere, perhaps to the stars; and the victorious voice above called to us out of heaven.

We hoisted ourselves up after him.
Half-way up some cold tongue of the night air struck and sobered me suddenly.

The hypnotism of the madman above fell from me, and I saw the whole map of our silly actions as clearly as if it were printed.

I saw three modern men in black coats who had begun with a perfectly sensible suspicion of a doubtful adventurer and who had ended, God knows how, half-way up a naked tree on a naked moorland, far from that adventurer and all his works, that adventurer who was at that moment, in all probability, laughing at us in some dirty Soho restaurant.

He had plenty to laugh at us about, and no doubt he was laughing his loudest; but when I thought what his laughter would be if he knew where we were at that moment, I nearly let go of the tree and fell.
"Swinburne," said Rupert suddenly, from above, "what are we doing?
Let's get down again," and by the mere sound of his voice I knew that he too felt the shock of wakening to reality.
"We can't leave poor Basil," I said.