tremendous issues that are
gathering to their fulfilment, and the part that you have to play in
working them out. This is not a question of the happiness or the
hopes of one man or woman, but of millions, of the whole human race.
You, and you alone, hold in your hands the power to make the defeat
of the League certain."

"And I will use it, have no fear of that!" replied Arnold, stopping
again and passing his hand over his eyes like a man waking from an
evil dream. "What I have sworn to do I will do; I am not going back
from my oath. I will obey to the end, for she will do the same, and
what would she think of me if I failed! Leave me alone for a bit now,
old man. I must fight this thing out with myself, but the _Ithuriel_
shall be ready to start at twelve."

Tremayne saw that he was himself again, and that it was better that
he should do as he said; so with a word of farewell he turned away
and left him alone with his thoughts. Half-way back to the settlement
he met Natasha coming down towards the lake. She was deadly pale, but
she walked with a firm step, and carried her head as proudly erect as
ever. As they met she stopped him and said--

"Where is he?"

Tremayne's first thought was to try and persuade her to go back and
leave Arnold to himself, but a look at Natasha's white set face and
burning eyes warned him that she was not in a mood to take advice,
and so he told her, and without another word she went on swiftly down
the path that led to the lake.

The brief twilight of the tropics had passed before he reached a
grove of palms on the western shore of the lake, towards which he had
bent his steps when he left Tremayne. He walked with loose, aimless
strides, now quickly and now slowly, and now stopping to watch the
brightening moon shining upon the water.

He caught himself thinking what a lovely night it would be to take
Natasha for a row, and then his mind sprang back with a jerk to the
remembrance of the horrible journey that he was to begin at
midnight--to take Natasha to another man, and leave her with him as
his wife.

No, it could not be true. It was impossible that he should have
fought and triumphed as he had done, and all for this. To give up the
one woman he had ever loved in all his life, the woman he had
snatched from slavery and degradation when not another man on earth
could have done it.

What had this Roburoff done that she should be given to him for the
mere asking? Why had he not co