an explosion filled the ear, and the ground
under our feet trembled. There was nothing to be seen, even with the
glass, save a light scum covering the water and some fragments of
charred tree branches. But the air about us was full of a fine dust
that powdered Betty's hair, as though for a costume ball, and made me
cough consumedly.

"Naturally, there were quite a number of explanations to make to Miss
Betty after George had been resuscitated--a slightly disfigured hero,
but still in the ring--but I spare you. The dear girl listened quietly,
but at the end she began to tremble, and I won't say but that she cried
a bit. It doesn't matter if she did, and I think we all began to feel a
little queer when we came to think it over. However, it WAS over--no
possible doubt about that.

"'One thing I don't understand,' said Crawfurd. 'There were to be three
warnings, and Estes only received two of the red buttons.' Whereupon
Betty blushed, and drew a little package from her pocket.

"'It came last night directed to George,' she said, 'but I forgot to
give it to him. It broke open in my pocket and it contained this.' She
held out to us the third red button. That was decent of Balencourt--to
have given the last warning.

"There is only one possible hypothesis to account for the catastrophe.
Balencourt was dealing with a terrible force, whose nature was but
partially understood, even by science. He had intended to use it to
fulfil the vengeance of the 'Dawn' but something had happened, and in
an instant the monster had turned and rended its master. That is all
that we can know.

"Two days later George and Betty were married, for they stuck to the
original date in spite of the fact that George, with a lump on his
forehead as big as the cricket-ball itself, did not make a particularly
presentable bridegroom. I carried an umbrella at the function whose
incomparable rolling was remarked upon by all. Need I say that it was
the same umbrella that Balencourt's man, Jarman, had manipulated for me
that fateful evening when we dined at the Argyle. I shall never unroll
that umbrella, even at the cost of a wetting. To me it is a memento."

"There's melodrama for you," said Indiman, a little shamefacedly as he
finished. "But one feels differently, you know, about taking chances
where a nice girl like Betty is concerned. Let me see; it's still
early. Do you feel up to taking that long-deferred ride on a
trolley-car? Good! We'll take the