The doctor was impelled ardently to believe that they yearned to
find voices and to utter some word. And then, on a sudden, he recalled
Julian's declaration on the night of Valentine's trance, that he had seen
a flame shine from his friend's lips, and fade away in the darkness. He
recalled, too, Julian's question about death-beds. Was the soul of a man
a flame? And, if so, were these flames many souls, or one soul reproduced
on all sides by his excitement, and by the intensity of his gaze after
them?
They burned more clearly. Their forms were more defined. Then suddenly
they grew vague, blurred, faint all around him. They faded. They died
into the red of the room. And once more the doctor sat alone.
He listened and heard the click of a key in the front door. And then
suddenly the horror that he had felt long ago, on the night when he was
followed in Regent Street, once more possessed him. He got on his feet
to face it, and, as the drawing-room door was pushed slowly open, faced
Valentine.
CHAPTER III
THE DOCTOR MEETS TWO STRANGERS
Upon seeing the doctor, Valentine paused on the threshold of the door,
and, as he paused, the doctor's horror fled.
"Valentine," he said, holding out his hand.
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