For a moment St.George knelt there, his blood tingling and pricking in his veins and pulsing in his temples.

Then he swayed and fell upon the stones.
* * * * * When St.George opened his eyes it was ten o'clock of the following morning, though he felt no interest in that.

There was before him a great rectangle of light.

He lifted his head and saw that the light appeared to flow from the interior of the tomb of King Abibaal.

The next moment Amory's cheery voice, pitched high in consternation and relief, made havoc among the echoes with a background of Jarvo's smooth thanksgiving for the return of adon.
St.George, coatless, stiff from the hours on the mouldy stones, dragged himself up and turned his eyes in fear upon the figure beside him.