sick fool!

The red crept up the knotted cords of Madison's neck, suffused the set
jaws, and, as though suddenly liberated to run its course where it
would, swept in a tide over cheeks and temples.

He couldn't do a thing--_couldn't he!_ Well, he'd see the game in
Gehenna before Thornton or any other man got her away from him. She
belonged to him--to _him!_ And he'd have her, hold her, own her--she was
his--_his!_ And he'd settle with Thornton too, by Heaven!

A laugh, low, unpleasant, purled to his lips--and he checked it with a
sort of strange mechanical realization that he must not laugh aloud. His
eyes swept the room--the man had returned to his seat, the woman had not
moved, both were silent, motionless--that ghastly, hallowed,
sanctimonious hush--that subdued, damnable light--meditation!

"For God's sake let me get out of here," he muttered, "or I'll go mad."

He turned--and stopped. Came a cry spontaneously from the man and the
woman--they were on their feet--no, on their knees. The doorway at the
further end of the room was framing a majestic figure, tall and
stately--and a sun-gleam struggling suddenly through the lattice seemed
to leap in a golden ray to caress in homage the snow-white hair, the
silver beard that fell upon the breast, the saintly face of the
Patriarch.

Then into the room advanced the Patriarch, and his hands were
outstretched before him, and he moved them a little to and fro--and the
gesture, the poise, the mien, as, touching nothing he seemed to feel his
way through space itself, was as one invoking a blessing of peace
ineffable.

Spellbound, Madison watched. Upon the face was a yearning that saddened
it, and, saddening, glorified it; the head was slightly turned as though
to listen--while slowly, with measured, certain tread, as though indeed
he had no need for eyes, the Patriarch circled the table and passed on
down the room. The man and the woman reached out and touched him
reverently, and drew back reverently to let him pass, and, rising from
their knees, followed him through the door and out onto the porch.

The room was empty. Madison stared at the doorway. Upon him fell a
sudden awe--it was as though a vision, an ethereal presence, some
strange embodiment of power, had been and gone--and yet still remained.

And now from without there came a sound like a distant murmur. It rose
and swelled, and began to roll in its volume, and then, like the clarion
sound of trumpets, voices