The priestess’s silver chimes of laughter rang out, cruel, mocking.

“Come, then, quickly,” she jeered. “For surely both the Shining One and I yearn for you!” Her malice-laden laughter chimed high once more. “Keep us not lonely long!” the priestess mocked.

Larry drew a deep breath, stretched both hands out to me.

“It’s goodbye, I guess, Doc.” His voice was strained. “Goodbye and good luck, old boy. If you get out, and you will , let the old Dolphin know I’m gone. And carry on, pal⁠—and always remember the O’Keefe loved you like a brother.”

I squeezed his hands desperately. Then out of my balance-shaking woe a strange comfort was born.

“Maybe it’s not goodbye, Larry!” I cried. “The banshee has not cried!”