the dream, lulled by this beauty of a summer's night, heavy
with the scent of flowers, the silence broken only by a rippling
fountain, the darkness illuminated by a world of radiant blossoms,
Vanamee could not forget the tragedy of the Other; that terror of many
years ago,--that prowler of the night, that strange, fearful figure with
the unseen face, swooping in there from out the darkness, gone in
an instant, yet leaving behind the trail and trace of death and of
pollution.

Never had Vanamee seen this more clearly than when leaving Presley on
the stock range of Los Muertos, he had come across to the Mission garden
by way of the Quien Sabe ranch.

It was the same night in which Annixter out-watched the stars, coming,
at last, to himself.

As the hours passed, the two men, far apart, ignoring each other, waited
for the Manifestation,--Annixter on the ranch, Vanamee in the garden.

Prone upon his face, under the pear trees, his forehead buried in the
hollow of his arm, Vanamee lay motionless. For the last time, raising
his head, he sent his voiceless cry out into the night across the
multi-coloured levels of the little valley, calling upon the miracle,
summoning the darkness to give Angele back to him, resigning himself to
the hallucination. He bowed his head upon his arm again and waited. The
minutes passed. The fountain dripped steadily. Over the hills a haze of
saffron light foretold the rising of the full moon. Nothing stirred. The
silence was profound.

Then, abruptly, Vanamee's right hand shut tight upon his wrist.
There--there it was. It began again, his invocation was answered. Far
off there, the ripple formed again upon the still, black pool of
the night. No sound, no sight; vibration merely, appreciable by some
sublimated faculty of the mind as yet unnamed. Rigid, his nerves taut,
motionless, prone on the ground, he waited.

It advanced with infinite slowness. Now it passed through the beds of
violets, now through the mignonette. A moment later, and he knew it
stood among the white iris. Then it left those behind. It was in the
splendour of the red roses and carnations. It passed like a moving star
into the superb abundance, the imperial opulence of the royal lilies.
It was advancing slowly, but there was no pause. He held his breath, not
daring to raise his head. It passed beyond the limits of the Seed ranch,
and entered the shade at the foot of the hill below him. Would it come
farther than this? Here