now deplore the loss of Zarlah's valuable instrument.

With eager hands I prepared the high-speed aerenoid for the journey,
feeling that I must trust to Almos' knowledge of its operation to carry
me through safely. Though I realized that the danger was increased a
thousand times in an aerenoid capable of such terrific speed, the fear
that even now I might be too late compelled me to make use of it.

Taking my place in the forward part of the car, I was greatly relieved
to find that my hand instinctively sought the levers, and operated them
with a judicious care that could result only from long experience.

Rising high enough to avoid small aerenoids, I proceeded at a
considerable speed and soon came within sight of Zarlah's dwelling. The
serene and peaceful appearance of this beautiful white marble villa, as
the morning sun glorified it, quickly dispelled the fears that had
brought me hither at such an early hour, and I gladly attributed them to
overwrought nerves and the loss of a night's sleep.

Moreover, as I slowly circled over the lake that only a few hours before
Zarlah and I had wistfully gazed upon together as we built a world of
happiness for ourselves, I felt that I was near to her, should the
danger of which I had been forewarned prove real. Here in the scene of
our happiness I would wait through the early hours--the last hours of
our separation.

Slowly descending, I brought the aerenoid to rest in a spot obscured by
trees from the villa. A few feet away, the little brook sparkled merrily
in the sunlight as it leaped along on its journey to the lake, and, as I
opened the door of the car, its joyous song swelled upon the fragrant
morning air, laughing at my forebodings in this world of peace, as it
had laughed at my despair of the previous night.

As I stepped out into the warm sunlight and made my way toward the
lake, a great joy filled my heart. It would not be long ere Zarlah
shared with me the happiness of the knowledge that we need never again
be separated.

"Poor Zarlah!" I murmured, as the memory of our last parting with its
great anguish of a forlorn hope sent a pang to my heart. "The bitterness
in thy cup was indeed great, but it is past. Oh, my beloved, awake to
the light of a new day filled with gladness, and sorrow shall not again
cross thy path!"

I paused, fancying I heard footsteps, and, glancing back, listened
intently. All was still, and I was just about to proceed when again the
sou