ve was ill, turned instead to look toward the door. Martha,
whose gaze had been fixed upon her lodger with an intentness which
indicated at least the dawning of a suspicion, turned to look in
the same direction. Galusha, left poised upon the very apex of the
explosion, awaited the moment when the fragments, of which he was one,
should begin to fall.

But they did not fall--then. Primmie gave them no opportunity to do so.

"Miss Martha," she cried, "Miss Martha, do you hear me? Zach--he says--"

Her mistress answered. "Yes, yes, Primmie," she said, "I hear you."
Then, turning again toward the banker and his relative, she said, "Mr.
Cabot, I--did I understand you to say--?"

"Miss Martha!" The voice outside the door was more insistent than ever.
"Miss Martha, Zach he says we've all hands got to come right straight
off, 'cause if we don't there'll be hell to pay.... My savin' soul, I
never meant to say that, Miss Martha! Zach, he said it, but _I_ never
meant to. I--I--Oh, my Lord of Isrul! I--I--oh, Miss Martha!"

Further wails of the frightened and repentant one were lost in an
ecstatic shout of laughter from Mr. Cabot. Martha slowly shook her head.

"Well," she observed, dryly, "I guess likely we'd better go, hadn't
we? If it is as bad as all that I should say we had, sure and certain.
Primmie Cash, I'm ashamed of you. Mr. Cabot, we'll finish our talk when
we come back. What under the sun you can possibly mean I declare I don't
understand.... But, there, it will keep. Come, Mr. Bangs."

She led the way from the sitting room. Cabot followed her and,
staggering slightly and with a hand still pressed to his forehead,
Galusha followed them. He was saved for the time, he realized that, but
for such a very short time. For an hour or two he was to hang in the air
and then would come the inevitable crash. When they returned home, after
the seance was over, Martha would question Cousin Gussie, Cousin Gussie
would answer, then he would be questioned and--and the end would come.
Martha would know him for what he was. As they emerged from the Phipps'
door into the damp chill and blackness of that October evening, Galusha
Bangs looked hopelessly up and down and for the first time in months
yearned for Egypt, to be in Egypt, in Abyssinia, in the middle of the
great Sahara--anywhere except where he was and where he was fated to be.

The windows of the light keeper's cottage were ablaze as they drew near.
Overhead the great strea