rris retired, softly closing the door. Then, with
a sudden leap of the heart, she was conscious that he was coming towards
her across the shadowed room.

He moved straight forward until he was close beside her; and, with one
of his decisive, imperious gestures, he put out both hands and caught
hers.

"It was a case of Mohammed and the mountain!" he said, in his grave
voice. "You wouldn't come to me; I _had_ to come to you."

No sound escaped her. She stood before him mutely, her face paling and
flushing, her hands fluttering in his.

There was a slight pause; and again he bent towards her.

"Why have you stayed away?"

She hesitated for a moment, spellbound by her emotion; then, making a
sudden effort, she looked up. "I--I was afraid." Her voice was so low
and shaken that the words were a mere whisper.

"Afraid? Afraid of what?"

She made no answer.

"Of what? Of Bale-Corphew?" He gave a slight, sarcastic laugh.

"No!" She looked up sharply. "Oh no!"

"Then of what? Of me?" His voice suddenly sank, and the pressure of his
fingers tightened.

"No! Oh, I don't know! I don't know!" With a tremulous gesture she tried
to withdraw her hands.

At the movement, he suddenly drew her towards him. "Tell me!" he said.
"I want to know. I must know!"

For the first time since he had entered the room, her glance rested
fully on his face. The light was uncertain, but as her gaze concentrated
itself, a new look--a look of wonder and alarm--sprang across her eyes.
In the seven days since they had spoken together, a change had fallen
on him. Some alteration she could not define had grown into his
expression; the cold mastery of himself and others was still visible;
but a new emotion had insensibly been created--something powerful and
even dominant--for which she could find no name. With a sharp,
instinctive alarm, her lips parted.

"What is it?" she said, apprehensively. "Why are you here? The time has
not come for you to go out into the world?"

A faintly ironic smile flitted across his lips.

"Surely, if one is a Prophet, one can alter even prophecies."

He said the words deliberately, looking down into her face.

The tone, the intentional flippancy of the words, came to her with a
shock. It was as if, by considered action, he had set about jeopardizing
his own dignity. A chill of undefined apprehension blew across her mind
like a cold wind.

"I--I don't understand," she stammered. "How did you get here? How di