of great strength that had
served her so often. "I am here, darling," he said soothingly.

Olga turned to him in piteous appeal. "Nick," she whispered, "where is
she? Where? Where?"

He answered her steadfastly, with the absolute conviction of one who
knew. "She is there beyond the Door, dear. You'll find her some day,
waiting for you where it is given to all of us to wait for those we
love."

But Olga only trembled at his words. "What door, Nick?" she asked. "Do
you--do you mean Death?"

"We call it Death," he said.

She scarcely heard his answer. She was shaking from head to foot. "Oh,
Nick," she gasped, "I'm frightened--I'm frightened! I daren't go on!"

His arm encircled her more strongly still. He almost lifted her forward
over the threshold into the cold and gloomy hall. "Don't be frightened,
darling! I'm with you," he said.

She would have hung back, but her strength was gone. She tottered weakly
whither he led. In a moment she was sitting on the old oak chest with
her face to the sunshine, just as she had sat on that golden afternoon
when she had come to summon Violet to her aid.

She covered her face and shivered. Surely the place was
haunted--haunted! In a grim procession memories began to crowd upon her.
With shrinking vision she beheld, and all the while Nick stood beside
her, holding her hand, sustaining even while he compelled.

"Do you remember?" he said, and again, as she shrank and quivered, "Do
you remember?"

There was something ruthless about him during those moments, something
she had never encountered before, something against which she knew she
would oppose herself in vain. For the first time she saw the man as he
was, felt the colossal strength of him, quivered beneath his mastery. He
was forcing her towards an obstacle from which every racked nerve winced
in horror. He was driving her, and he meant to drive her, into conflict
with a force that threatened to overwhelm her utterly.

"Oh, let me go, Nick! Let me go!" she cried in agonized entreaty. "It's
more than I can bear."

He knelt beside her; he held her close. "Darling," he said, "face
it--face it just this once! It's for your own peace of mind I'm doing
it."

And then she knew that no cry of hers would move him. He was ready to
help her--if he could; but he would not suffer her to flee before that
dread procession that had begun to wind like a fiery serpent through her
brain. So, in a quivering anguish of spirit such as she