he remembered
them.... Fool that he had been! Had he, then, expected his Desire to
manifest herself while there still existed the evidence of his divided
allegiance? What, and she with a passion so fierce and centred that it
had not hesitated at the destruction, twice attempted, of her rival? Fool
that he had been!...

But if _that_ was all the pledge and sacrifice she required she should
have it--ah, yes, and quickly!

He took the manuscript from the window-seat, and brought it to the fire.

He kept his fire always burning now; the warmth brought out the last
vestige of odour of the flowers with which his room was banked. He did
not know what time it was; long since he had allowed his clock to run
down--it had seemed a foolish measurer of time in regard to the
stupendous things that were happening to Oleron; but he knew it was late.
He took the _Romilly_ manuscript and knelt before the fire.

But he had not finished removing the fastening that held the sheets
together before he suddenly gave a start, turned his head over his
shoulder, and listened intently. The sound he had heard had not been
loud--it had been, indeed, no more than a tap, twice or thrice
repeated--but it had filled Oleron with alarm. His face grew dark as
it came again.

He heard a voice outside on his landing.

"Paul!... Paul!..."

It was Elsie's voice.

"Paul!... I know you're in... I want to see you...."

He cursed her under his breath, but kept perfectly still. He did not
intend to admit her.

"Paul!... You're in trouble.... I believe you're in danger... at least
come to the door!..."

Oleron smothered a low laugh. It somehow amused him that she, in such
danger herself, should talk to him of _his_ danger!... Well, if she was,
serve her right; she knew, or said she knew, all about it....

"Paul!... Paul!..."

"_Paul!... Paul!_..." He mimicked her under his breath.

"Oh, Paul, it's _horrible_!..."

Horrible, was it? thought Oleron. Then let her get away....

"I only want to help you, Paul.... I didn't promise not to come if you
needed me...."

He was impervious to the pitiful sob that interrupted the low cry. The
devil take the woman! Should he shout to her to go away and not come
back? No: let her call and knock and sob. She had a gift for sobbing; she
mustn't think her sobs would move him. They irritated him, so that he set
his teeth and shook his fist at her, but that was all. Let her sob.

"_Paul!... Paul!_..."

With hi