THE TALE OF THE LOST LAND
CHAPTER 44: A POSTSCRIPT BY CLARENCE
To-morrow. It is here. And with it the end. About midnight
I awoke, and saw that hag making curious passes in the air about
The Boss's head and face, and wondered what it meant. Everybody
but the dynamo-watch lay steeped in sleep; there was no sound.
The woman ceased from her mysterious foolery, and started tip-toeing
toward the door. I called out:
"Stop! What have you been doing?"
She halted, and said with an accent of malicious satisfaction:
"Ye were conquerors; ye are conquered! These others are perishing--
you also. Ye shall all die in this place--every one--except him.
He sleepeth now--and shall sleep thirteen centuries. I am Merlin!"