bin asked, "in assuming that the old enmity between
us is dead, that the last few years has wiped away the old soreness.

"Yes," Felix answered. "I know that she was happy with you. That is
enough for me."

"You and I," Mr. Sabin continued, "must work out her salvation. Do not
be afraid that I am going to ask you impossibilities. I know that our
ways must lie apart. You can go to her at once. It may be many, many
months before I can catch even a glimpse of her. Never mind. Let me
feel that she has you within the circle, and I without, with our lives
devoted to her."

"You may rely upon that," Felix answered. "Wherever she is I am going. I
shall be there. I will watch over her."

Mr. Sabin sighed.

"The more difficult task is mine," he said, "but I have no fear of
failure. I shall find her surrounded by spies, by those who are now my
enemies. Still, they will find it hard to shake me off. It may be that
they took her from me only out of revenge. If that be so my task will be
easier. If there are other dangers which she is called upon to face, it
is still possible that they might accept my service instead."

"You would give it?" Felix exclaimed.

"To the last drop of blood in my body," Mr. Sabin answered. "Save for my
love for her I am a dead man upon the earth. I have no longer politics
or ambition. So the past can easily be expunged. Those who must be her
guiding influence shall be mine."

"You will win her back," Felix said. "I am sure of it."

"I am willing to pay any price on earth," Mr. Sabin answered. "If they
can forget the past I can. I want you to remember this. I want her to
know it. I want them to know it. That is all, Felix."

Mr. Sabin leaned back in his seat. He had left this country last a
stricken and defeated man, left it with the echoes of his ruined schemes
crashing in his ears. He came back to it a man with one purpose only,
and that such a purpose as never before had guided him--the love of a
woman. Was it a sign of age, he wondered, this return to the humanities?
His life had been full of great schemes, he had wielded often a gigantic
influence, more than once he had made history. And now the love of these
things had gone from him. Their fascination was powerless to quicken by
a single beat his steady pulse. Monarchy or republic--what did he care?
It was Lucille he wanted, the woman who had shown him how sweet even
defeat might be, who had made these three years of his life so happy
that