nt so much
to her. It was not a matter of a day, a week, a year; it was for a
whole weary, lonesome lifetime. Then she faced him.

"I will come," she said.

He raised her fingers to his lips.

"Your Majesty has the blood of her race."

She turned a white face to Wilson.

"That's it," she said. "They call me Queen, but you see how helpless I
am. You must tell him this and you must not let him come back."

Otaballo held the door wide for her and she passed out. From the
bottom of his heart Wilson pitied her, but this very pity brought to
his mind that other woman whom he himself had left behind. He hurried
out of the building after telling Stubbs where he could be found, and
across the street. He took the stairs joyously, three at a time. The
door of the room where he had left her stood open. The bed within was
empty.

CHAPTER XVIII

_Blind Alleys_

For a moment he stood there staring, wondering if it could be only a
dream that he had held her in his arms, that he had brought her up
here, that she had lain upon this white bed which now mocked him with
its emptiness. Then he took a step into the room, where he saw still
the imprint of her head upon the pillow. He turned at this and ran
into the hall, shouting her name. He was down the stairs in three
bounds. The couch where he had left Sorez was also empty. The guard at
the front door would not believe when told; but the proof lay in the
absence of the guard in the rear. This door opened upon a small garden
surrounded by a low wall. A gate led from this into a narrow street in
the rear. If they were gone far they must have left in a carriage, for
neither of them was strong enough to walk.

With a feeling of more bitter hatred than he had ever felt against any
man, he realized that Sorez must have been in part shamming. That he
was weak and exhausted there could be no doubt; but it was equally
clear now that he was by no means so weak as he had led Wilson to
believe. Not even Stubbs could have drawn Wilson from the house, had
he suspected Sorez of being able to move from that couch within twelve
hours.

Wilson blamed himself for stupidity, for carelessness, for almost
criminal negligence in thus leaving the girl. And yet one might as
soon reckon on the dead coming to life, as for this denouement. It was
clear that he was dealing with no ordinary man, but he should have
known this after the display of nerve he had witnessed as Sorez had
climbed the st