“I shall arrange to keep on that house in Smith Street, and put in a caretaker, so that she shall have a home when she comes out. What will happen then, God Almighty knows. Perhaps she will have changed. We need n't discuss it. But, at any rate, while I 'm away, I want you to see to it for me. It's a ghastly task, but some one must undertake it. Will you?” “Of course,” said Herold. “But what do you mean by being 'away'?” “I am going to Australia,” said Risca. “For how long?” “For the rest of my life,” said Risca. Herold leaped from his chair and threw his cigarette into the fire. It was only John Risca who, without giving warning, would lower his head and charge at life in that fashion. “This is madness.” “It's my only chance of sanity,” said Risca. “Here I am a dead man. The flames are too much for me. Perhaps in another country, where I 'm not known, some kind of a phoenix called John Smith or Robinson may rise out of the ashes. Here it can't. Here the ashes would leave a stench that would asphyxiate any bird, however fabulous. It's my one chance--to begin again.” “What will you do?” “The same as here. If I can make a fair living in London, I ought n't to starve in Melbourne.” “It's monstrous!” cried Herold. “It's not to be thought of.” “Just so,” replied Risca. “It's got to be done.” Herold glanced at the gloomy face, and threw up his hands in despair. When John Risca spoke in that stubborn way there was no moving him. He had taken it into his head to go to Australia, and to Australia he would go despite all arguments and beseechings. Yet Herold argued and besought. It was monstrous that a man of John's brilliant attainments and deeply rooted ambitions should surrender the position in London which he had so hardly won. London was generous, London was just; in the eyes of London he was pure and blameless. Not an editor would refuse him work, not an acquaintance would refuse him the right hand of fellowship. The heart of every friend was open to him. As for the agony of his soul, he would carry that about with him wherever he went. He could not escape from it by going to the antipodes. It was more likely to be conjured away in England by the love of those about him. “I 'm aware of all that, but I 'm going to Melbourne,” said Risca, doggedly. “If I stay here, I'm dead.” “When do you propose to start?” “I shall take my ticket to-morrow on the first available boat.” Herold laid his nervous hand on the other's burly shoulder. “Is it fair in this reckless way to spring such a tremendous decision on those who care for you?” “Who on God's earth really cares for me except yourself? It will be a wrench parting from you, but it has to be.” “You've forgotten Stellamaris,” said Herold. “I have n't,” replied Risca, morosely; “but she 's only a child. She looks upon me as a creature out of a fairy-tale. Realities, thank God! have no place in that room of hers. I 'll soon fade out of her mind.”