"
Guest looked at me and away out of the window. Adele was behind us, and
out of hearing.
"Do you suppose," he said in a low tone, "that Staunton or any of us are
meant to leave this place alive? I am afraid our friends below know too
well what they are doing."
The door opened, and Staunton himself appeared. He looked years older
than the strong, debonair man to whom I had told my story a few hours
ago, but in his face was none of the despair which I had feared. He
was pale, and his eyes were shining with suppressed excitement, but he
had by no means the air of a beaten man. He came over to where we were
standing.
"It is finished," he said calmly. "I read your story in print."
"Magnificent," I murmured, "but look! Do you think that a single copy
will ever leave this place?"
He stood looking downwards with darkening face. For several moments he
was silent.
"Look at them!" he muttered. "At last! The tocsin has sounded, and the
rats have come out of their holes! Half a million and more of scum eating
their way into the entrails of this great city of ours.
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