When he had left her, leaving behind nothing but the impression of his dominating will, she felt as if she missed something in the room. She would have preferred him to stand there still, and her sense of isolation passed all bounds, overwhelming her. A bottomless abyss opened before her, and phantom figures made appealing gestures. But she could not cast herself down; she hung on to one slender rootlet; she knew it to be the tiny remnant that remained to her of her former life. She wished too, that even this rootlet might be torn adrift, for she would rather have faced death in its entirety than hover over the void. * * * * * Mabuse went backwards and forwards in his room. He was like a caged beast, caught between his rage for vengeance and lust of domination on the one hand and the resistance raised to the attainment of his goal on the other. That which baffled him was such a trifle, merely the memories binding a wife to the hours she has passed with her husband, either alone or in company, and because it was so slight an obstacle, the desire to remove and destroy it utterly possessed him with fury such as he had not known till now. Spoerri entered. He was dressed as a soldier. “What is that for?” asked Mabuse morosely, but he did not wait for an answer, and asked about George’s movements. “He is at the villa in Schachen. He is very cautious, and does not go out.” “What is he doing there?” “At night he helps to bring the store of cocaine under the summer-house into Switzerland. I have found something fresh which they are ready to take there. Ether.” “What is the ether for?” “Folks are beginning to take it.” “Who? What folks? Where?” “Our folks, in Switzerland!” “_Your_ folks; how many have you?” “We can get it to the others!” “That reminds me of the girls you were sending to Switzerland, to speed up the smuggling of salvarsan. I don’t want to hear anything about business matters. You understand, nothing.” “I won’t say any more about it.” “Perhaps, Spoerri, there’ll be no need for that sort of thing any more!” Then a hoarse cry was uttered by Spoerri. “Oh, Doctor, Citopomar! Is it to be soon now?” “We’ll drink to it, Spoerri, we’ll drink to it. I don’t know. Let’s drink to the shepherd boy with eighty-six thousand marks yearly income!” “Oh, what have I out of it? Do I not always invest it again in one or other of your enterprises, Doctor?” “Because it brings you in ten per cent. more there than it would in an insurance society. Shall I have to use force, shepherd? Drink, I say!” Spoerri was the first to fall from his chair. He lay on the floor, disorder all around him, gazing sadly at his master. He lay there like a dog about to die, knowing that he could no longer protect his master’s life.