ts near the Athletic
Ground on Greenpoint Common. The last lingering star throbbed itself out,
a white moth dying in the marvellous rose and orange fires of dawn, and
the overwhelming, brooding bulk of Table Mountain gleamed, an emerald and
sapphire splendour against the rising sun, and the two lesser peaks that
are the mountain's bodyguard shone glowing in golden mail as Saxham got to
his feet, and shook some order into the disorder of his dress, and faced
hotelwards.

Despair was in the heart of the Dop Doctor, and for him the wonder of the
dawn, the marvel of the sunrise meant no more than if he had been born
blind. A menial's trick had wrought him confusion; his will, in the saving
strength of which he had trusted, was a leaf in the wind of his desire.
Even now his throat and tongue were parched, his being thirsted for the
liquor he had abjured.

What was to be done? What was to happen in the future? He asked himself in
vain. As Mouille Point shut its fixed red eye in apparent derision, and
the Greenpoint Light winked a thirteen-mile wink and went out, unlike the
Hope that had burned in Saxham, and would be rekindled never more.

LX

Pity the man now as he sat brooding alone in the consulting-room, consumed
by the thirst he shuddered at, once more an unwilling slave to the habit
he abhorred.

He unscrewed the large flask and drank, and his lips curled back with
loathing of the whisky, and his gorge rose at it as it went down. Then he
put the flask back and locked the drawer, and laid his head down upon his
folded arms in silence. No help anywhere! No hope, no joy, no love!

Death must come. Death should come, before the shadow of disgrace fell
upon the Beloved, of whose love he knew now that he had never been worthy.
Well for Lynette that he had never won it! Happy for her that she had
never even learned to care for him a little!

* * * * *

A few days more, and the great Victorian Age had drawn its last breath.

The people went about the London streets softly, as though their footsteps
led them through the stately, grand, and solemn chamber where lay the
august, illustrious Dead.

A subdued, busy hum of preparation was perceptible to the ear. The eye saw
the thoroughfares being covered with sand, the draperies of purple rising
at the bidding of the pulley and the rope, the carts laden with wreaths
and garlands of laurel, passing from point to point, discharging thei