ven over those terrible, relentless laws which
sometimes make a ghastly nightmare of life even to the happiest of us.
You have turned sorrow into joy. It is a great deed. You have made my
own suffering seem almost a vulgar thing."

"Ah, no!" he said, "for you, too, there is hope. You, too, know that we
need never be the idle, resistless slaves of Fate--like those others.
Will and faith and purity can kindle a magic flame to lighten the
darkness of the greatest sorrow. I speak to you of these
things--now--because I think that the end is near."

He suddenly sank into a chair. I looked at him in alarm, but his face
was radiant. There was no sign of any illness there.

"You are young, Arnold Greatson," he said. "They tell me that you will
be famous. Yet you are not one of those to turn your face to the wall
because the greatest gift of life is withheld from you. That is why I
have lifted the curtain of my own days. I know you, and I know that you
will triumph. It is a world of compensations after all for those who
have the wit to understand."

I think that he had more to say to me, but we were interrupted. There
was a knock at the door, and the man entered whom I had seen talking
with Feurgeres upon the platform of the railway station. Feurgeres rose
at once, calm and prepared. They talked for a while so rapidly that I
could not follow them. Then he turned to me.

"They are preparing for a move," he announced. "They are going south as
though for Marseilles and Illghera, but they insist upon a special
train. They have declined a saloon attached to the train de luxe, and
Monsieur Estere here has doubts as to their real destination. Wait here
until I return. Be prepared for a journey."

* * * * *

They left me alone. I lit a cigarette and settled down to read. In less
than half an hour, however, I was disturbed. There was a knock at the
door, and Madame Tobain entered.

"There is a lady here, sir, who desires to see Monsieur!" she announced.

A fair, slight woman in a long travelling cloak brushed past her. She
raised her veil, and I started at once to my feet. It was Lady Delahaye.

CHAPTER IV

It did not need a word from Lady Delahaye to acquaint me fully with what
had happened. Indeed, my only wonder had been that this knowledge had
not come to her before. She greeted me with a smile, but her face was
full of purpose.

"Where is he?" she asked simply.

"Not here," I ans