temple.

Was Marion at the temple? If so he realized that she was beyond his
reach. But the woman had said that she was not there. Where could she
have gone? Why had not Strang taken her with his wives? In a flash
Nathaniel thought of Arbor Croche and Obadiah--the two men who always
knew what the king was doing. If he could find the sheriff alone--if he
could only nurse Obadiah back into sane life again! He thrust his pistol
into its holster. There was but one thing for him to do and that was to
return to the old councilor. It would be madness for him to go down to
St. James. He had lost--Strang had won. But his love for Marion was
undying. If he found her Strang's wife it would make no difference to
him. It would all be evened up when he killed the king. For Marion loved
him--loved him--

He turned his face toward Obadiah's, his heart singing the glad words
which the woman had spoken to him back there in the sixth chamber.

And as he was about to take the first step in that long race back to the
mad councilor's he heard behind him the approach of quick feet. He
crouched behind a clump of bushes and waited. A shadowy form was
hurrying through the grove. It passed close to him, mounted the castle
steps, and in the doorway turned and looked back for an instant in the
direction of St. James.

Nathaniel's lips quivered; the pounding of his heart half choked him; a
shriek of mad, terrible joy was ready to leap from his lips.

There in the dim glow of the great lamp stood Strang, the Mormon king.

CHAPTER IX

THE HAND OF FATE

Like a panther Nathaniel crouched and watched the man on the steps. His
muscles jerked, his hands were clenched; each instant he seemed about to
spring. But he held himself back until Strang had passed through the
door. Then he slipped along the log wall of the castle, hugging the
shadows, fearing that the king might reappear and see him in time to
close the door. What an opportunity fate had made for him! His fingers
itched to get at Strang's thick bull-like throat. He felt no fear, no
hesitation about the outcome of the struggle with this giant prophet of
God. He did not plan to shoot, for a shot would destroy the secret of
Marion's fate. He would choke the truth from Strang; rob him of life
slowly, gasp by gasp, until in the horror of death the king would reveal
her hiding-place--would tell what he had done with her.

Then he would kill him!

There was the strength of tempered st