the Ray
lighting her gold hair, as she knelt, absorbed. What she heard filled
her with a certain dread; and a tremor of premonition, like the
darkness preceding storm, shook her nerves. But the inward spirit of
her was as a warrior clothed in steel,--she was afraid of
nothing--least of all of any event or incident passing for
"supernatural," knowing beyond all doubt that the most seeming
miraculous circumstances are all the result of natural movement and
transmutation. There never had been anything surprising to her in the
fact that light is a conveyor of sound; and that she was receiving a
message by such means seemed no more extraordinary to her mind than
receiving it by the accepted telephonic service. Every word spoken she
heard with the closest attention--until--as though a cloud had suddenly
covered it,--the "Sound-Ray" vanished, and the Voice ceased.

She rose at once from her knees, alert and ready for action--her face
was pale, her lips set, her eyes luminous.

"I must not hesitate"--she said--"If I can save him I will!"

She left the chapel and hurried home, where as soon as she reached her
own private room she wrote to the Marchese Rivardi the following note,
which was more than unpleasantly startling to him when he received it.

"I shall need you and Gaspard for a long journey in the 'White Eagle.'
Prepare everything in the way of provisioning and other necessary
details. No time must be lost, and no expense need be spared. We must
start as quickly as possible."

This message written, sealed and dispatched by one of her servants to
the Marchese's villa, she sat for some moments lost in thought,
wistfully looking out on her flower-filled gardens and the shimmering
blue of the Mediterranean beyond.

"I may be too late!" she said, speaking aloud to herself--"But I will
take the risk! He will not care--no!--a man like that cares for nothing
but himself. He would have broken my life--(had I given him the
chance!)--for the sake of an experiment. Now--if I can--I will rescue
his for the sake of an ideal!"

CHAPTER XXI

"There shall be no more wars!--there CAN be none!"

Roger Seaton said these words aloud with defiant emphasis, addressing
the dumb sky. It was early morning, but an intense heat had so scorched
the earth that not the smallest drop of dew glittered on any leaf or
blade of grass; it was all arid, brown and burned into a dryness as of
fever. But Seaton was far too much engrossed with