“A Prince or beggar,” the voice outside jeered, “you have no right to be here. Only the Gods themselves are allowed on this Island.”
His Greek was coarse and Avila knew that the speaker came from the gutter.
At the same time there was an ominously mad note in his voice and in his laughter.
Now he was laughing again.
“You will rot in the darkness,” he shouted. “You will die in agony as other thieves have died and the worms will eat your flesh.”
“Now you listen to me ‒ ” the Prince began.
Even as he spoke the man was laughing again, it was a shrill, uncanny and unpleasant sound which seemed to rise to a sharp crescendo.
Then it faded slowly.
He was still laughing and Avila knew that he was moving down the hill that they had just climbed.
Then he must have hurried over the anemones u
