. I wrote to them to say that I was safe, and to ask their
forgiveness, but my letter has never been answered. The next time was in
Norway. While we were there a young Norwegian pianist came under the
spoil of Pharos's influence. But the load of misery he was called upon
to bear was too much for him and he killed himself. In one of his cruel
moments Pharos congratulated me on the success with which I had acted as
his decoy. Realising the part I had unconsciously played, and knowing
that escape in any other direction was impossible, I resolved to follow
the wretched lad's example. I arranged everything as carefully as a
desperate woman could do. We were staying at the time near one of the
deepest fjords, and if I could only reach the place unseen, I was
prepared to throw myself over into the water five hundred feet below.
Every preparation was made, and when I thought Pharos was asleep I crept
from the house and made my way along the rough mountain path to the spot
where I was going to say farewell to my wretched life for good and all.
For days past I had been nerving myself for the deed. Reaching the spot
I stood upon the brink gazing down into the depths below, thinking of my
poor father, whom I expected soon to join, and wondering when my mangled
body would be found. Then, lifting my arms above my head, I was about
to let myself go, when a voice behind me ordered me to stop. I
recognised it, and though I knew that before he could approach me it was
possible for me to effect my purpose and place myself beyond even his
power forever, I was unable to do as I desired.

"'Come here,' he said--and since you know him you can imagine how he
would say it--'this is the second time you have endeavoured to outwit
me. First you sought refuge in flight, but I brought you back. Now you
have tried suicide, but once more I have defeated you. Learn this, that
as in life so even in death you are mine, to do with as I will.' After
that he led me back to the hotel, and from that time I have been
convinced that nothing can release me from the chains that bind me."

Once more I thought of the conversation I had overheard through the
saloon skylight on board the yacht. What comfort to give her or what
answer to make I did not know. I was still debating this in my mind when
she rose and, offering some excuse, left me and went into the house.
When she had gone, I seated myself in my chair again and tried to think
out what she had told me. It s