"A sinister problem enough," I answered bitterly. "But not the most trouble to me. I tell you, Danjuro, that as I lay among the heather and looked down upon that lonely house, as I thought of the devilish crew that live there, for a moment my heart turned to water, and the agony was more than I could endure. _She_ may be there, at this moment, defenceless and in the power ..." I could not go on. I covered my face with my hands, and was nearer breaking down than ever before. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. "It has never left my mind, either. Do not give way, for the moment of action has come. We go to the inn at Zerran to-night--within the hour." "To-night!" "Yes. We cannot afford to waste a moment. Helzephron is kept in London. One great danger is removed from our path. We shall never have a better opportunity than now. In dealing with enemies such as ours, we must strike quickly and strongly when they think themselves most secure. Before dawn we must have penetrated the inmost secrets of Tregeraint." I had by now grown accustomed to regard Danjuro as the leader of our enterprise. His decision was like cool water to a man dying of thirst in a desert. I stood up, absolutely myself. "There is, of course, no reason why we should not install ourselves at Zerran to-night instead of to-morrow morning. Trewhella won't mind," I said. "I will order the car in an hour. Meanwhile, I have one or two things to do. Perhaps you will settle the hotel bill, Sir John, and tell the people that we are leaving?..." It was a stiflingly hot night as the car climbed up to the moors, and in the glare of our headlights the gorse and heather by the roadside streamed swiftly like some golden cinema, leaving a more sable dark before and behind them. Danjuro, by my side, was lost in thought. The massive head hung upon his chest. About half-way on our journey he said a curious thing. "This would be an ideal night for another raid in the air-lanes of the Atlantic." I did not answer, for I, also, was thinking deeply. So it was for to-night! We crossed swords, fired the first shot, what you will, with our cunning enemy in a few hours. What would they bring forth? I felt no fear, only a deep resolution not to fail in rescue and the execution of Justice. I was happier than I had been for days, for it is thought that turns the bones to pith and thins the blood, not action. And, as we flashed down the dark moor road to where the lights of the solitary inn showed yellow, I sent a wordless prayer to the Throne of Justice and Mercy. And, as if an answer was truly and instantly vouchsafed, there came into my mind these words from the ninety-first Psalm: "I will deliver thee from the snare of the hunter." And after that I put mere abstract thought away from me.