action to some dim realization of her
nakedness. She was breathing feebly. "And now--oh, Paul!--Paul!--you--have
come--too late!"

* * * * *

I hardly think Paul knew I was there or sensed that I followed where
he carried in his arms the bruised body that had housed the spirit of
Maida. He flew homeward like a demon, but he moved as one in a dream.

Only when I went with him into the room where he had worked, did he
turn on me in sudden fury.

"Out!" he screamed. "Get out of my sight! It is you who have done
this--your damned armies who would not do as I ordered! If you had not
resisted, if you had--"

I broke in there.

"Did we do that?" I outshouted him, and I pointed to the torn body on
a cot. His eyes followed my shaking hand. "No, it was your
brothers--your dear comrades who are bringing the brotherhood of men
into the world! Well, are you proud? Are you happy and satisfied--with
what your brothers do with women?"

It must be a fearful thing to have one's dreams turn bitter and
poisonous. Paul Stravoinski seemed about to spring upon me. He was
crouched, and the muscles of his thin neck were like wire; his face
was a ghastly thing, his eyes so staring bright, and the sensitive
mouth twisting horribly. But he sprang at last not at me but toward
the door, and without a word from his tortured lips he opened it and
motioned me out.

Even there I heard echoes of distant guns and the heavier, thudding
sounds that must be their aerial torpedoes. My feet were leaden as I
strained every muscle to hurry toward my ship. Through my mind was
running the threat of the Russian, Vornikoff: "We even tell you the
date: in thirty days." And this was the thirtieth day--thirty days
that a state of war had existed.

* * * * *

The battle was on; the radio had spoken truly. I saw its raging fires
as I came up from our rear where the gray-like smoke clouds shivered
in the unending blast. But I saw stabbing flames that struck upward
from the ground to make a wall of sharp, fiery spears, and I knew that
every darting flame was launching a projectile from our anti-aircraft
guns.

The skies were filled with the red aircraft of the enemy, but their
way was an avenue of hell where thousands of shells filled the air
with their crashing explosions. There were torpedoes, the unmanned
airships whose cargo was death, and they were guided to their marks
despite the inferno t