The draught instead of cheering
seemed to make him suddenly despondent. He wiped his lips and remarked,
in a grave and almost conscience-stricken manner:
"I have some unpleasant news for you, gentlemen. The fountain of Saint
Elias has ceased to flow. We heard it this morning from a sailor, an
unusually trustworthy person--a man, I mean, who can be relied upon to
tell the truth when there is nothing to be gained by concealing or
distorting it. The thing must have happened last night. Yes, it has
dried up altogether. What is to be done?"
"You don't say so," remarked Keith. "This is really interesting! I
thought something was going to happen. I suppose your people are rather
alarmed?"
Denis interrupted:
"I don't understand what you are talking about. Why should not a
fountain dry up if it wants to? And what does it matter to anybody?"
"What does it matter?" echoed the priest. "This is no ordinary
fountain, I am sorry to say. Have you never heard of Beelzebub?"
CHAPTER XVI
Now, with regard to fountains, it is to be noted that Nepenthe, an
islet of volcanic stone rising out of the blue Mediterranean, has
never--for all its natural attractions--been renowned for cool springs
and bubbling streamlets.
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