The duel of wills commenced without ceremony. Oceaxe got up, stretched her beautiful limbs, smiled, and prepared herself to witness the struggle between her old lover and her new. Crimtyphon smiled too; he reached out his hand for more fruit, but did not eat it. Maskull’s self- control broke down and he dashed at the boy, choking with red fury—his beard wagged and his face was crimson. When he realised with whom he had to deal, Crimtyphon left off smiling, slipped off the couch, and threw a terrible and malignant glare into his sorb. Maskull staggered. He gathered together all the brute force of his will, and by sheer weight continued his advance. The boy shrieked and ran behind the couch, trying to get away.... His opposition suddenly collapsed. Maskull stumbled forward, recovered himself, and then vaulted clear over the high pile of mosses, to get at his antagonist. He fell on top of him with all his bulk. Grasping his throat, he pulled his little head completely around, so that the neck was broken. Crimtyphon immediately died. The corpse lay underneath the tree with its face upturned. Maskull viewed it attentively, and as he did so an expression of awe and wonder came into his own countenance. In the moment of death Crimtyphon’s face had undergone a startling and even shocking alteration. Its personal character had wholly vanished, giving place to a vulgar, grinning mask which expressed nothing. He did not have to search his mind long, to remember where he had seen the brother of that expression. It was identical with that on the face of the apparition at the siance, after Krag had dealt with it. Chapter 10. TYDOMIN Oceaxe sat down carelessly on the couch of mosses, and began eating the plums. “You see, you had to kill him, Maskull,” she said, in a rather quizzical voice. He came away from the corpse and regarded her—still red, and still breathing hard. “It’s no joking matter. You especially ought to keep quiet.” “Why?” “Because he was your husband.” “You think I ought to show grief—when I feel none?” “Don’t pretend, woman!” Oceaxe smiled. “From your manner one would think you were accusing me of some crime.” Maskull literally snorted at her words. “What, you live with filth—you live in the arms of a morbid monstrosity and then—” “Oh, now I grasp it,” she said, in a tone of perfect detachment. “I’m glad.” “Well, Maskull,” she proceeded, after a pause, “and who gave you the right to rule my conduct? Am I not mistress of my own person?” He looked at her with disgust, but said nothing. There was another long interval of silence. “I never loved him,” said Oceaxe at last, looking at the ground. “That makes it all the worse.” “What does all this mean—what do you want?” “Nothing from you—absolutely nothing—thank heaven!” She gave a hard laugh. “You come here with your foreign preconceptions and expect us all to bow down to them.” “What preconceptions?”