trees and hedges whirling past us in the
darkness, always the same, like an enchanted drive; then the endless
suburbs, and at last the streets where people lounged in corners and
stopped the way, as if every second of time were not worth a king's
ransom; and sedan-chairs trotted lightly home from gay parties as if
life were not one long tragedy. Once the way was stopped, once we lost
it. That mistake nearly killed me. At last a watchman helped us to the
little by-street where Dr. Penn was lodging, near which a loud sound of
carpenters' work and hurrying groups of people puzzled me exceedingly.
After much knocking, an upper window was opened and a head put out, and
my dear friend's dear voice called to us. I sprang out on to the
pavement and cried--

"Dr. Penn, this is Dorothy."

He came down and took us in, and then (my voice failing) Robert
explained to him the nature of our errand, and showed him the ghastly
proof. Dr. Penn came back to me.

"My love," he said, "you must come up-stairs and rest."

"Rest!" I shrieked, "never! Get your hat, doctor, and come quickly. Let
us go to the king. Let us do something. We have very little time, and he
must be saved."

I believe I was very unreasonable; I fear that I delayed them some
minutes before good Dr. Penn could persuade me that I should only be a
hindrance, that he would do everything that was possible, and could do
so much better with no one but Robert.

"My love," he said, "trust me. To obey is better than sacrifice!"

I went up-stairs into the dingy little sitting-room, and he went to call
his landlady--"a good woman," he said: "I have known her long." Then he
went away, and Robert with him, to the house of the Home Secretary.

It was three o'clock. Five hours still!

I sat staring at the sprawling paper on the walls, and at the long snuff
of the candle that Dr. Penn had lighted, and at a framed piece of
embroidery, representing Abraham sacrificing Isaac, that hung upon the
wall. Were there no succouring angels now?

The door opened, and I looked wearily round. A motherly woman, with
black eyes, fat cheeks, and a fat wedding-ring, stood curtseying at the
door. I said, "I think you are Dr. Penn's landlady? He says you are very
good. Pray come in."

Then I dropped my head on my hand again, and stared vacantly as before.
Exhaustion had almost become stupor, and it was in a sort of dream that
I watched the stout figure moving softly to and fro, lighting the fir