You'll be over it as soon as we are outside."

Ten minutes later the cavalcade started down the rain-swept road toward
the city, dry blankets having been placed across the saddles occupied by
the ladies and the Prince. The Witch stood in her doorway, laughing
gleefully, inviting them to come often.

"Come again, your Highness," she croaked sarcastically.

"The next time I come, it will be with a torch to burn you alive!"
shouted back Dangloss. To Tullis he added: "'Gad, sir, they did well to
burn witches in your town of Salem. You cleared the country of them, the
pests."

Darkness was approaching fast among the sombre hills; the great pass was
enveloped in the mists and the gloaming of early night. In a compact
body the guardsmen rode close about Prince Robin and his friend.
Ingomede had urged this upon Tullis, still oppressed by the feeling of
disaster that had come over her in the hovel.

"It means something, my friend, it means something," she insisted. "I
feel it--I am sure of it." Riding quite close beside him, she added in
lower tones: "I was with my husband no longer ago than yesterday. Do you
know that I believe it is Count Marlanx that I feel everywhere about me
now? _He_--his presence--is in the air! Oh, I wish I could make you feel
as I do."

"You haven't told me why you ran away on Sunday," he said, abruptly,
dismissing her argument with small ceremony.

"He sent for me. I--I had to go." There was a new, strange expression in
her eyes that puzzled him for a long time. Suddenly the solution came:
she was completely captive to the will of this hated husband. The
realisation brought a distinct, sickening shock with it.

Down through the lowering shades rode the Prince's party, swiftly, even
gaily by virtue of relaxation from the strain of a weird half hour. No
one revealed the slightest sign of apprehension arising from the
mysterious demonstration in which nature had taken a hand.

Truxton King was holding forth, with cynical good humour, for the
benefit, if not the edification of Baron Dangloss, with whom he
rode--Mr. Hobbs galloping behind not unlike the faithful Sancho of
another Quixote's day.

"It's all tommy-rot, Baron," said Truxton. "We've got a dozen stage
wizards in New York who can do all she did and then some. That smoke
from the kettle is a corking good trick--but that's all it is, take my
word for it. The storm? Why, you know as well as I do, Baron, that she
can't bring rain like that