He took his cap from a peg, and from the corner a bundle of miscellaneous possessions, rolled up in apparently a worn alpaca office-coat, and girt about with knotted string. He saluted the Chief and Saxham, and nodded to the telegraph clerk, and went out of the cabin in a plodding kind of hurry as though no grass should grow under his feet before he set them for good upon the dreadful downward Road. His vice had played into an enemy’s hands, and he would trust himself no longer. He meted out judgment to rum-soaked Macrombie, assuming for himself the prerogative of the One Judge. But he got his chance in spite of himself, when Britain’s Hour came. *CHAPTER XLI* *SAXHAM LIES* At Saxham’s nod Patrine rang up Lynette, and the familiar voice that came back, spun out to a spider-thread of sweetness across the distance, stabbed the listener to the heart like a delicate blade of gold-wrought steel. It said, with a quiver in it: "Of course, I am not nervous at all. And I know how much Bawne would enjoy the night-flying. But if Owen were not there, perhaps I might be—afraid that something was wrong. Owen!" "Say that I am here," the Doctor signed, and Patrine obeyed. "Tell my darling to speak to me," said the voice, and Patrine, dropping the microphone from suddenly useless fingers, saw Saxham take it and force his stiff white lips to speech: "It is not possible—just at this moment. You forget——" "Of course ... The fireworks!" "Just so. The fireworks. Expect us in another hour. And—Patrine is here and coming back to Harley Street. To stay. Please tell Mrs. Keyse and Janey to get a room ready." The cordial answer came: "I will at once. Dear Pat! how glad I shall be to have her!" "This is Patrine speaking now!" Saxham’s steady hand touched Patrine’s in transferring the receiver of the telephone, and the chill of it stung like the touch of death. She could not control her trembling as she answered: "You are always so kind to me, dear Aunt Lynette!" "No, dear! In an hour, then? Take care of my precious," the sweet voice pleaded, "until I see you both..." "Yes—yes!" Saxham’s hand hung up the receiver, rang off, and steadied Patrine, whose knees were melting under her weight: "Don’t ask me ... any more ... I—can’t!" she begged of him brokenly. He said, and with those deep lines that showed in his hard grey face, and his light eyes staring haggardly from caves that grief had dug about them, Saxham looked older by twenty years: "I know it was hard, but the thing had got to be done. How could I bludgeon her with the truth, whispered over a wire? Once face to face, the first glimpse of me will show her that I have lied to her. God help me!" said the Dop Doctor; "I told her I had stayed on here with Bawne to give him the treat of seeing a night-flying display." "How—horribly clever of you!"