"I am going to help the Brotherhood," said Electra, with punctilious truth. "And build a monument to that handsome scamp that had the bad taste to come over here to die." "Grandmother, you must not use such words." "Must not? Don't you suppose I know a scamp when I see one? If I'd been fifty years younger, I dare say I should be starting out to build him a monument, too. But I'm glad of it, child, I'm glad of it. He's your preserver. He has roused in you the capacity for being a fool. Make much of it. Prize it. It's God's most blessed gift to man. When you've lost that, you've lost everything." "There is the carriage, grandmother. I must go." Madam Fulton presented a kindly cheek. "Good-by, my dear," she said. "I'm sorry I've harried you. I had to, though. I should again. Now we'll meet in Paris, or London--or another world." Electra, a perfect picture of the well-equipped traveler, in her beautiful suit, her erect pose, was at the door. "The maids will go in an hour," she said. "Then you've only to turn the key and walk over to Mrs. Grant's. I wish you'd had your trunks taken out before." "My trunks can wait," chuckled the old lady. "They'll be sent for." As Electra's carriage turned from the driveway into the road, Madam Fulton laughed again. Electra had five minutes at the station, and there appeared Peter, wearing the air of haste. He had been painting in the garden, when the carriage went by, and he had dropped brush and palette to run. Why, Peter could not have said, only it seemed cold and miserable to have an imperial lady taking the train alone and then setting sail with no one by. "You wouldn't let me go up to town with you?" he ventured, with his eager stammer. "No," returned Electra, "thank you." "I'd like to awfully," said Peter. "Maybe I could be of use." "Everything is done. My luggage is on board. We sail at three." "It seems an infernally lonesome thing to do!" Electra smiled. She had gained that smile of late. It was a subtle indication of the secret knowledge she had of the resources of her own future. With a perfect and simple conviction, she believed she should be guided by Markham MacLeod or some unseen genius of his life. She should follow his star. She should know where to go. "Rose said you didn't take the letters she offered you. Is that wise, Electra? If you want to know the Brotherhood--" "I shall know it," said Electra, with entire simplicity. "The way will open." She did not say that she could not bear to blur her secret by sharing it overmuch with any one. She was going on a mission for the chief. Other voices would confuse the message. The medium must be kept clarified between his soul and hers. Peter stood back, feeling, in another form, Madam Fulton's hopeless admiration of this magnificent futility. "Well," he said, "I shall be there in the late autumn, and I shall find you." "I may not," said Electra decisively, "want to be found."