"I have been expecting you," she said. "Come with me." She led me up to the second floor and unlocking a door, pushed it open. "Go in," she directed. "In five vir I shall come for you." * * * * * As I entered the room Duare rose from a couch and faced me. Hara Es closed the door and locked it. I heard her footsteps as she descended the stairs. We were alone, Duare and I, for the first time in what seemed an eternity to me. "Why did you come here?" asked Duare in a tired voice. "You ask me that!" I exclaimed. "You know why I came." She shook her head. "You cannot do anything for me; no one can. I supposed you would come if you could help me, but as you can't I do not know why you came." "If for no other reason, because I love you. Is not that reason enough?" "Do not speak to me of love," she said, looking at me queerly. I determined not to make her last moments more unhappy by pressing unwelcome attention upon her. I sought to cheer her, but she said that she was not unhappy. "I am not afraid to die, Carson Napier," she said. "As it seems impossible that, living, I should ever return to Vepaja, I prefer to die. I am not happy. I can never be happy." "Why could you never be happy?" I demanded. "That is my secret; I shall take it to the grave with me. Let us not speak of it any more." "I don't wish you to die, Duare. You must not die!" I exclaimed. "I know that you feel that way, Carson, but what are we to do about it?" "There must be something we can do. How many are there in this house besides Hara Es and yourself?" "There is no one." Suddenly a mad hope possessed me. I searched the room with my eyes. It was bare of all except absolute necessities. I saw nothing with which I might carry out my plan. Time was flying. Hara Es would soon return. My eyes fell upon the saronglike scarf that Duare wore, the common outer garment of Amtorian women. "Let me take this," I said, stepping to her side. "What for?" she demanded. "Never mind. Do as I say! We have no time to argue." Duare had long since learned to submerge her pride when my tone told her that an emergency confronted us and to obey me promptly. She did so now. Quickly she unwound the scarf from about her and handed it to me. "Here it is," she said. "What are you going to do with it?" "Wait and see. Stand over there on the right side of the room. Here comes Hara Es now; I hear her on the stairs." I stepped quickly to one side of the door so that I should be behind it and hidden from Hara Es as she entered. Then I waited. More than my own life lay in the balance, yet I was not nervous. My heart beat as quietly as though I were contemplating nothing more exciting than a pleasant social visit. I heard Hara Es stop before the door. I heard the key turn in the lock. Then the door swung open and Hara Es stepped into the room. As she did so I seized her by the throat from behind and pushed the door shut with my foot.