elf. Then he questioned me so closely as to what had
happened that I was weak enough to tell him the truth. Of course, as
a fervent Hebrew, which he seems to be, he did not relish the idea of
having played the Christian martyr for Unorna's amusement, and amidst
the graves of his own people. He there and then impressed me that he
intended to take Unorna's life without delay, but insisted that I should
warn her of her danger, saying that he would not be a common murderer.
Seeing that he was mad and in earnest I went to her. There was some
delay, which proved fortunate, as it turned out, for we left the
conservatory by the small door just as he was entering from the other
end. We locked it behind us, and going round by the passages locked the
other door upon him also, so that he was caught in a trap. And there he
is, unless some one has let him out."

"And then you took Unorna to the convent?" Keyork had listened
attentively.

"I took her to the convent, promising to come to her when she should
send for me. Then I saw that I must consult you before doing anything
more. It will not do to make a scandal of the matter."

"No," answered Keyork thoughtfully. "It will not do."

The Wanderer had told his story with perfect truth and yet in a way
which entirely concealed the very important part Unorna's passion for
him had played in the sequence of events. Seeing that Keyork asked no
further questions he felt satisfied that he had accomplished his purpose
as he had intended, and that the sage suspected nothing. He would have
been very much disconcerted had he known that the latter had long been
aware of Unorna's love, and was quite able to guess at the cause of
Kafka's sudden appearance and extreme excitement. Indeed, so soon as he
had finished the short narrative, his mind reverted with curiosity to
Keyork himself, and he wondered what the little man had meant by his
amazing outburst of gratitude on hearing of Unorna's safety. Perhaps
he loved her. More impossible things than that had occurred in the
Wanderer's experience. Or, possibly, he had an object to gain in
exaggerating his thankfulness to Unorna's preserver. He knew that
Keyork rarely did anything without an object, and that, although he was
occasionally very odd and excitable, he was always in reality perfectly
well aware of what he was doing. He was roused from his speculations by
Keyork's voice.

"There will be no difficulty in securing Kafka," he said. "The real