ignoring the hand the Englishman had stretched out to him, "it is we who
have to thank you; and we do so most gratefully and sincerely."

And at the same moment at least half a dozen of the Brothers took up
their position between himself and the door.

"You are very good to say so," Harris replied as firmly as he could
manage, noticing this movement out of the corner of his eye, "but really
I had no conception that--my little chance visit could have afforded you
so much pleasure." He moved another step nearer the door, but Bruder
Schliemann came across the room quickly and stood in front of him. His
attitude was uncompromising. A dark and terrible expression had come
into his face.

"But it was _not_ by chance that you came, Bruder Harris," he said so
that all the room could hear; "surely we have not misunderstood your
presence here?" He raised his black eyebrows.

"No, no," the Englishman hastened to reply, "I was--I am delighted to be
here. I told you what pleasure it gave me to find myself among you. Do
not misunderstand me, I beg." His voice faltered a little, and he had
difficulty in finding the words. More and more, too, he had difficulty
in understanding _their_ words.

"Of course," interposed Bruder Kalkmann in his iron bass, "_we_ have not
misunderstood. You have come back in the spirit of true and unselfish
devotion. You offer yourself freely, and we all appreciate it. It is
your willingness and nobility that have so completely won our veneration
and respect." A faint murmur of applause ran round the room. "What we
all delight in--what our great Master will especially delight in--is the
value of your spontaneous and voluntary--"

He used a word Harris did not understand. He said "_Opfer_." The
bewildered Englishman searched his brain for the translation, and
searched in vain. For the life of him he could not remember what it
meant. But the word, for all his inability to translate it, touched his
soul with ice. It was worse, far worse, than anything he had imagined.
He felt like a lost, helpless creature, and all power to fight sank out
of him from that moment.

"It is magnificent to be such a willing--" added Schliemann, sidling
up to him with a dreadful leer on his face. He made use of the same
word--"_Opfer_."

"God! What could it all mean?" "Offer himself!" "True spirit of
devotion!" "Willing," "unselfish," "magnificent!" _Opfer, Opfer, Opfer!_
What in the name of heaven did it mean, that strange