‘That matches my experience of him to a tee,’ returned Swami, who was growing quite communicative with Mercia. ‘He came yesterday to have his fortune told; he wished to learn the issue of the trial, hoping all would go well with him. I showed him the principal phases of the trial, projected on the psychic-plate beneath the stereoscopic crystal, the sight of which made him boil with anger—he was vexed beyond description, and for my pains in bringing out these splendid psychodevelopments I only got his growlings to the effect that he wished he had never troubled himself at all to seek my aid. “Thou wouldst have me curse, when I can only bless,” said I, and gave him good counsel, at which he fumed impatiently. But of all vacillating hounds, I think he takes the cake. One moment love, or rather desire, then fear, envy, revenge, swayed him by turns: he changed about like a weathercock moved by every wind. ‘However, fear was uppermost in his mind, all through, and reached its climax when he beheld the pictures, so finally he decided to take his flight to Berlin where he intends remaining until the trial be well over, and all its attendant gossip grown stale, _as he hopes_. ‘But the 1st of May will bring him back; he cannot miss the GREAT TEST TOURNAMENT which quickly follows to-day’s event. Both will end disastrously for him, and none will say “he’s sorry.”’ ‘I’m sorry I can’t feel sorry either,’ remarked Mercia laughingly. ‘But Swami, I must away now, and explain to my counsel this new aspect of affairs. He must be prepared for the changes that have taken place last night—the Emperor’s withdrawal of the suit; his flight, and my discharge from prison. It is necessary that he be made acquainted with these altered conditions, and shape his course accordingly.’ ‘My carriage is in readiness for thee, Mercia, at any moment thou art ready to depart. Shall I accompany thee, or no?’ ‘I would prefer seeing him alone, dear Swami, I am not prepared to make my lawyer my confessor, as would be almost necessary if I were in thy company at such a time. But I count upon thy presence near me at the trial, for few are my friends. I have led the life of a recluse almost, so great has been my devotion to my work, and this is how that ingrate has rewarded me. Farewell, dearest, for one hour only—in that time I will see thee at the court.’ And Mercia stepping into the well-appointed carriage belonging to Swami was driven away to the barrister’s. CHAPTER XII