ished at the new aspect he presented.

Without came the shrill ringing of a bell, the sound of feet and the
gabble of a phonographic message. The man in yellow appeared. "Yes?"
said Graham.

"They are at Vichy."

"Where are the attendants who were in the great Hall of the Atlas?"
asked Graham abruptly.

Presently the Babble Machine rang again. "We may win yet," said the man
in yellow, going out to it. "If only we can find where Ostrog has hidden
his guns. Everything hangs on that now. Perhaps this--"

Graham followed him. But the only news was of the aeroplanes. They had
reached Orleans.

Graham returned to Helen. "No news," he said "No news."

"And we can do nothing?"

"Nothing."

He paced impatiently. Suddenly the swift anger that was his nature swept
upon him. "Curse this complex world!" he cried, "and all the inventions
of men! That a man must die like a rat in a snare and never see his foe!
Oh, for one blow!..."

He turned with an abrupt change in his manner. "That's nonsense," he
said. "I am a savage."

He paced and stopped. "After all London and Paris are only two cities.
All the temperate zone has risen. What if London is doomed and Paris
destroyed? These are but accidents." Again came the mockery of news to
call him to fresh enquiries. He returned with a graver face and sat down
beside her.

"The end must be near," he said. "The people it seems have fought and
died in tens of thousands, the ways about Roehampton must be like a
smoked beehive. And they have died in vain. They are still only at the
sub stage. The aeroplanes are near Paris. Even were a gleam of success
to come now, there would be nothing to do, there would be no time to do
anything before they were upon us. The guns that might have saved us are
mislaid. Mislaid! Think of the disorder of things! Think of this foolish
tumult, that cannot even find its weapons! Oh, for one aeropile--just
one! For the want of that I am beaten. Humanity is beaten and our cause
is lost! My kingship, my headlong foolish kingship will not last a
night. And I have egged on the people to fight--."

"They would have fought anyhow."

"I doubt it. I have come among them--"

"No," she cried, "not that. If defeat comes--if you die--. But even that
cannot be, it cannot be, after all these years."

"Ah! We have meant well. But--do you indeed believe--?"

"If they defeat you," she cried, "you have spoken. Your word has gone
like a great wind through the world