rnish had blistered on the panels and the silken curtains
at the windows hung in tatters. The last car of all had clearly been in
service as an eating apartment, and fortunately the doors of this coach
had been left closed and the windows remained intact. Constans entered
and looked about him, noting that the tables still bore their weight of
plate and china and napery. Most moving of all was the little nosegay
that stood in a tall glass at each cover. But even as he gazed,
delighted that the flowers still retained recognizable shape, they broke
and crumbled into nothingness.

It was difficult to understand why the train should have been abandoned,
it being evident that it had stood here, ready for immediate departure,
but the unquestionable fact may serve to emphasize again the suddenness
of the final catastrophe. People had simply dropped and forgotten
everything. In the extremity of terror civilized man had become a
savage, reverting to primeval instincts in preferring his legs to any
other means of escape. There was but one thing left for him--to run
away.

It was a depressing experience to be standing solitary and alone under
these vast arches that had echoed to the tramp of feet innumerable. A
sense of his loneliness pressed heavily upon Constans; then, suddenly,
he became aware of the presence of a man, who stood leaning against a
pillar a short distance away and watched him from under close-knit
brows.

The fair hair and frank, kindly face seemed dimly familiar to Constans;
and what thighs and breadth of shoulder! The stranger stood little short
of gianthood, and Constans would have run small chance against him as
man to man. Bitterly he regretted having left his bow behind; even his
double-edged hunting-knife was missing from his belt.

The man walked deliberately forward to meet him. Certainly his dress and
equipment proclaimed him a Doomsman, and by the same token he must have
recognized that Constans was an alien. Yet he smiled and held out his
hand as he came up.

"It is Constans, of course; for who else among the House People would
dare to cross the Gray Wolf's threshold. Do you not remember Ulick?"

The two young men shook hands heartily, albeit a certain constraint was
immediately to fall upon them. For Constans could not be unmindful of
his purpose, and Ulick was a true Doomsman, and hatred of the
House-dweller was the first article in his hereditary creed. The
inheritance of a naked sword lay be