ble ardour of
France. He was the hero and the herald of the most mysterious future.

A tremendous burst of cheering rose to the platform on which he stood.
The crowd thronged about him, the men shook him by the hand, the
ladies kissed him. They pressed him to make a speech which all could
hear and understand. And Simon, leaning over these people, whose
enthusiasm blended with his own exaltation, stammered a few words in
praise of the two nations.

The frenzy was so violent and unbridled that Simon was jostled,
carried off his feet, swept into the crowd and lost among the very
people who were looking for him. His only thought was to go into the
first hotel that offered and throw himself down on a bed. A hand
seized his; and a voice said:

"Come with me; I will show you the way."

He recognized the young woman whom he had released from her bonds. Her
face likewise was transfigured with emotion.

"You have done a splendid thing," she said. "I don't believe any
other man could have done it. . . . You are above all other men.
. . ."

An eddy in the crowd tore them apart, although the stranger's hand
clutched his. He fell to the floor among the overturned chairs, picked
himself up again and was feeling at the end of his tether as he neared
one of the exits, when suddenly he stood to attention. Strength
returned to his limbs. Lord Bakefield and Isabel were standing before
him.

Eagerly Isabel held out her hand:

"We were there, Simon. We saw you. I'm proud of you, Simon."

He was astonished and confused.

"Isabel! Is it really you?"

She smiled, happy to see him so much moved in her presence.

"It really is; and it's quite natural, since we live at Battle, a mile
away. The catastrophe has spared the house but we came to Hastings to
help the sufferers and in that way heard of your arrival . . . of your
triumph, Simon."

Lord Bakefield did not budge. He pretended to be looking in another
direction. Simon addressed him.

"May I take it, Lord Bakefield, that you will regard this day's work
as a first step towards the goal for which I am making?"

The old nobleman, stiff with pride and resentment, vouchsafed no
reply.

"Of course," Simon continued, "I haven't conquered England. But all
the same there seem to be a series of circumstances in my favour which
permit me at least to ask you whether you consider that the first of
your conditions has been fulfilled."

This time Lord Bakefield seemed to be making up