s former quarter.

"We can never get through to the north," said Piers Minor.

"There is no necessity," returned Nanna. "I know of a wharf on the
Lesser river where the shad-fishers keep their boats. We can reach it
from here in a quarter of an hour."

"Good," said Piers Minor, and waited for her to lead the way. Then, as
she still held back, he went on, impatiently, "The wind may change at
any moment, and it is foolish to wait."

"It is my sister," explained the girl. "She is here in the city--a
prisoner----" Her voice shook and failed her.

"But what can we do?" asked the young man. "You do not even know--in
Quinton Edge's house, you say? But that is a mile or more away, and the
road is already blocked. It is impossible."

"Yes, I know, but suppose there should be a chance--the hand that has
moved the Shining One to strike, may it not be lifted again to repair
the evil?"

"I do not understand," said Piers Minor.

And thereupon Nanna described as clearly as she could the part that
Prosper, the priest, had played in the impending tragedy. Surely he
might be prevailed upon to avert the judgment from the innocent. He who
had released the flames could as easily restrain them. Or, at least,
Arcadia House might be spared.

"But where are we to find him?"

Nanna pointed down the street. "There--in the House of Power."

"Come," he said, and they went on quickly.

At the entrance to the temple of the Shining One they stopped and
listened. The air was all tremulous with the hum of the rapidly
revolving dynamos, the thud of the reciprocating machinery, and the
grinding of the badly lubricated shafting.

Piers Minor knew that he was horribly afraid, but for very shame he
could not hold back. Together they stole a little way within the vaulted
entrance and listened again. Nothing but the roar of the machinery. The
vast hall would have been in utter darkness save for the glare of the
conflagration; as it was, they could see clearly that there was nobody
within.

"The little room beyond," said Nanna, and shivered. These were forbidden
sights for a woman's eyes, and the god would be very angry. Yet it must
be done. They joined hands like two children and went forward.

Now they stood, wondering, within the little room with its low ceiling
and bare white walls. Could it be that so great a god as the Shining One
could dwell here? An empty room, save for the oak chair standing in the
middle of the floor and that curiou