“Adjust my cloak; my shoulder is cold.  But it always seems to me that the light over there is going out.  You called it the lighthouse of the Holy Cross, if I am not mistaken?”

“Yes, it is called so here.”

“Aha!  It is called so here.”

Silence.

“Must I go now?” asks Haggart.

“Yes, go.”

“And you will remain here?”

“I will remain here.”

Haggart retreats several steps.

“Good-bye, sir.”

“Good-bye, Haggart.”

Again the cobblestones rattle under his cautious steps; without looking back, Haggart climbs the steep rocks.

Of what great sorrow speaks this night?

CHAPTER V

“Your hands are in blood, Haggart.  Whom have you killed, Haggart?”

“Silence, Khorre, I killed that man.  Be silent and listen—­he will commence to play soon.  I stood here and listened, but suddenly my heart sank, and I cannot stay here alone.”

“Don’t confuse my mind, Noni; don’t tempt me.  I will run away from here.  At night, when I am already fast asleep, you swoop down on me like a demon, grab me by the neck, and drag me over here—­I can’t understand anything.  Tell me, my boy, is it necessary to hide the body?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Why didn’t you throw it into the sea?”

“Silence!  What are you prating about?  I have nothing to throw into the sea.”

“But your hands are in blood.”

“Silence, Khorre!  He will commence soon.  Be silent and listen—­I say to you—­Are you a friend to me or not, Khorre?”

He drags him closer to the dark window of the church.  Khorre mutters: 

“How dark it is.  If you raised me out of bed for this accursed music—­”

“Yes, yes; for this accursed music.”

“Then you have disturbed my honest sleep in vain; I want no music, Noni.”

“So!  Was I perhaps to run through the street, knock at the windows and shout:  ’Eh, who is there; where’s a living soul?  Come and help Haggart, stand up with him against the cannons.’”

“You are confusing things, Noni.  Drink some gin, my boy.  What cannons?”

“Silence, sailor.”

He drags him away from the window.

“Oh, you shake me like a squall!”

“Silence!  I think he looked at us from the window; something white flashed behind the window pane.  You may laugh.  Khorre—­if he came out now I would scream like a woman.”

He laughs softly.

“Are you speaking of Dan?  I don’t understand anything, Noni.”

“But is that Dan?  Of course it is not Dan—­it is some one else.  Give me your hand, sailor.”

“I think that you simply drank too much, like that time—­remember, in the castle?  And your hand is quivering.  But then the game was different—­”

“Tss!”

Khorre lowers his voice: