Then silence, complete and leaden, fell with uncanny suddenness.
The Master laughed, dryly.

He touched Leclair's arm.
"Strong medicine for the Beni Harb, Lieutenant," said he.

"Their own _imams_ (priests) have strong medicine, too, but not so strong as that of the cursed sons of Feringistan.

Sleep already lies heavy on the eyelids of these sons of Allah.

And a deeper sleep shall soon overcome them.