Lindsay needed rest, but he could not go to bed. He knew perfectly well that he was exhausted, but he knew equally well that he was not drowsy. His state of mind was abnormal. Perhaps the three large cups of jet-black coffee that he had drunk at dinner helped in this matter. But whatever the cause, he was conscious of every atom of this exaggerated spiritual alertness; of the speed with which his thoughts drove; of the almost insupportable mental clarity through which they shot. "If this keeps up," he meditated, "it's no use my going to bed at all tonight. I could not possibly sleep." He found Lutetia's poems agreeable solace at this moment. They contained no anodyne for his restlessness; but at least they did not increase it. Her poetry had not been considered successful, but Lindsay liked it. It was erratic in meter; irregular in rhythm. But at times it astounded him with a delicate precision of expression; at moments it surprised him with an opulence of fancy. He read on and on-- Suddenly that mental indicator--was it a flutter of his spirit or merely a lowering of the spiritual temperature?--apprised him that he was not alone.... But as usual, after he realized that his privacy had been invaded, he continued to read; his gaze caught, as though actually tied, by the print.... After a while he shut the book.... But he still sat with his hand clutching it, one finger marking the place.... He did not lift his eyes when he spoke.... "Tell the others to go," he demanded. * * * * * After a while he arose. He did not move to the other end of the room nor did he glance once in that direction. But on his side, he paced up and down with a stern, long-strided prowl. He spoke aloud. "Listen to me!" His tone was peremptory. "We've got to understand each other tonight. I can't endure it any longer; for I know as well as you that the time is getting short. You can't speak to me. But I can speak to you. Lutetia, you've got to outdo yourself tonight. You must give me a sign. Do you understand? You _must_ show me. Now summon all that you have of strength, whatever it is, to give me that sign--do you understand, _all you have_. Listen! Whatever it is that you want me to do, it isn't here. I know that now. I know it because I've been here two months-- Whatever it is, it must be put through somewhere else. An idea came to me this morning. I spent all the afternoon thinking it out. Maybe I've got a clue. It all started in New York. _He_ tried to get it to me there. Listen! Tell me! Quick! Quick! Quick! Do you want me to go to New York?"