"He just ran out, Will." Ellen was crying, this time almost silently, with the words coming out between shakes of her shoulders. "Will, we've got to get out. We've got to. The men are coming for you. They'll be here any minute. And it's wrong--it won't work! Oh, Will, hurry!" "Men? Men are coming?" He'd almost forgotten that it could be men who were after him. "I called them, Will. I thought I had to. But it won't work. Will, do anything you like, but _get_ out! They are fools. They...." He opened the door and peered out the doorway into the hall, which seemed quiet. He'd been a fool again. He'd trusted her for some reason, as if a body and loyalty had to go together. They'd been smart, picking a virgin for the job. It must have cost them plenty, unless they'd twisted her mind somehow. Maybe they could do it. But he knew that whatever they looked like, it couldn't be real men who'd meet him out there. "Why?" he asked, and was surprised at the flatness of his voice. She shook her head. "Because I'm a fool, Will. Because I thought they could help you--until _he_ came! And because I'm still in love with you, even if you'd forgotten me." But the fear inside him was drowning out her words, and the golden haze was faint in the air again. "Okay," he said finally. "Okay, don't burn her, too, now that she's done your dirty work. I'm coming." The haze disappeared slowly, and he started down the stairs, still holding her hand. VI There were men with guns in the street. He'd heard two shots as he came down the stairs, and had shoved Ellen behind him. But it was silent now. People with dazed, frightened faces were still darting into the houses, leaving the street to the men with the guns. Hawkes marched forward grimly, perversely stripped of fear, even though he was sure some of the men out there were monsters and others were their dupes. He tapped one of the men on the shoulder. "Okay, here I am. The girl goes free!" The man spun around as if mounted on a ball bearing and pulled by strings. The gun fell from his hands. His emotion-taut face loosened suddenly, seemed to run like melted wax, and congealed again in an expression of utter idiocy. He gargled frothily, and then screamed--high and shrill, like a tortured woman. Suddenly he was a lunging maniac, tearing up the street. Now the others were running--some toward cars, and some toward the corners, running flat and desperately on the flat of their feet, without any spring to their motions. Hawkes jerked his eyes down toward the big gas-storage tanks where most of them had been, and the glow that had been in the corner of his vision was gone. Men seemed to be coming out of a trance. They were breaking away, forgetting about their guns and fleeing. Three men alone were left.