I had never before seen him so genuinely disturbed. His artificial coolness had melted, as ice might fall off a volcano in eruption after long quiescence. I had great respect for the clearness of his mental vision; there was also a certain consolation in witnessing this sudden upheaval. That a skilled lawyer, a man of great acumen in affairs, and, for one of his years, an astonishingly cool-headed judge of human nature, should be so perturbed by the issues submitted to him, offered some proof that I had not magnified their gravity. “Do you think we can regard Steindal as a negligible quantity?” he asked, halting in front of me and piercing me with his large earnest eyes. “It would seem to be reasonable from his latest attitude,” I admitted. “Then we are driven back on the women. What of this girl, Nora? She is the chief difficulty. It is perfectly evident that the sympathetic bond, or whatever it is, which exists between Karl and Maggie, was broken, or remained in abeyance, from the day of Constantine’s death until there sprang up some lover-like relationship between Karl and Nora. Then Maggie intervened, whether by her own volition or not is unknown, and, to an extent, inconsequent. Karl recognized the impossibility of marriage with Nora, but it was beyond him to give a reason that would be accepted by his father, nor was he so callous as to offer up Maggie as a holocaust. Therefore, he has definitely adopted a course of action which demands his own death. There is no other alternative. Either Maggie or he must die. The way out--if there is one--lies with Nora--or Maggie.” “But what can we do? We cannot kill one of them, even for the sake of our friend.” “No, but we can bring them together before it is too late.” “What good purpose will that accomplish?” “It may achieve a hundred different purposes which are impracticable when one woman is in Italy and the other woman in England. Let us get them face to face and things will happen. Sit right down and write me a letter of introduction to Nora. Just say I am a friend of all parties, and leave the remainder of the explanation to me. I will take care of her, and of Karl, too, not to mention Steindal, until you bring Maggie from the Castello Rondo.” “Until I--bring--” “Repetition is the vainest form of argument. Don’t speak, there’s a good fellow. Indeed, you can’t. When all this trouble is through, I would advise you to consult a specialist. Weakness of the vocal chords is an early symptom of decay. Now write, while I look up the train service.” I compared Hooper to a volcano; I might go further and say that the lava-stream of his impetuosity quite swept me off my feet. It is a splendid thing, in a crisis, to have a masterful ally. His confidence lent me new life. He rushed off to make inquiries beneath, and I sat down to write a note to Nora. In black and white the task was not so easy as Hooper would have it. Ultimately, I wrote as follows: