The odd circumstances of the case forbade any explanation. And in the face of Endor’s general evasiveness, it needed all the clear-headed loyalty of a newly married wife to avert a first rift in the lute. Beyond a few vague reasons which bore no analysis, this sudden and unpardonable desertion had to be left undefended. Not a hint could be given of the tragic coil in which he was involved. It was indeed a test of Helen’s faith to go forth alone among strangers with a hastily improvised excuse for the nonappearance of her husband. On Sunday morning Endor motored down into Kent. He was in a state of mental darkness as great perhaps as any through which he had yet passed. Bitterly he realized his folly. He was in a terrible morass. Now that he was his true self, he saw that this Society, to which he was bound by a most solemn oath of allegiance, was itself a menace to the world. No matter what the abuses it set out to destroy, to a mind of perfect balance it hardly admitted of question that the nostrum was at least as bad as the disease. During a two hours’ journey into the Weald of Kent, he gave furious thought to the problem before him. At all hazards he must free himself from the toils of those whom he now felt to be inimical to society itself. But was it possible to get free? From the note of urgency in the summons it was clear that great decisions were about to be taken. And by the oath that bound him he would have to accept a full share of responsibility for those decisions whatever they might be. Busshe Court was Endor’s destination. A wonderful old house, set in the very heart of “the garden of England,” this first visit must have interested him deeply had it taken place at another time. In the half-light of a winter noon the place had an air of medieval romance and mystery. Before a low stone portico stood the owner of the house, who, without a hat and in a suit of country tweeds, looked a typical and singularly handsome English squire. Common report said that Roland Holles wore more than one large bee in his bonnet. So it might be, yet there was no denying the picturesque force, the rather sinister attraction, of a rare personality. Endor met with a cordial welcome. The company differed from the one gathered at Rose Carburton’s eight weeks before. No women were there. Reckoning Endor and his host, the company assembled at the luncheon with which the proceedings began consisted of seven men. Lien Weng and Bandar Ali, representative of the immemorial East, were of the number; and in the persons of George Hierons, Felix de Tournel and Amadeo Negretti, there were also represented America, France and Italy.