“All the silly gnats”--a big wine was in his glass--“all the silly gnats who swarm in bus and tube, who line up in queues for theaters and movies, who devour bookstalls and live on our headlines, well, well! One-hell-of-a-muss, isn’t it, my dear? No place for people as sane as you and me.” She was left a little stunned by the logical ferocity of a mind so modern, and yet so subversive of all things that seemed to make life livable. XLVI After dinner, in the privacy of an inner drawing room, Saul Hartz sought Helen again. It was agony almost for her to be with him, to hear his strange voice clothe yet stranger words; and yet it was a form of experience that no constructive mind would ever willingly forego. She was a woman of strong will, a woman sound in heart and brain, but of a sudden there returned upon her the memory of that night of subtle fear, some two months back, when she had paid a surprise visit to Carlton House Terrace--that unforgettable night of his dealing the man she loved a felon’s blow. Not then had she known him for the thing he was. For her, at least, his purpose was still masked. But now everything was clear. The hood had lifted, the veil was rent. He stood forth, open and declared, an enemy of mankind. The knowledge filled Helen with curious emotion. She now felt the challenge of his nature in a way that frightened her. Beside her sat the very genius of negation. Was not she, too, just a poor silly gnat? The sense of his sheer animal power made her almost long at this moment to feel his arms about her; with his sorcery upon her she half wished that his lips would crush out her life. And she knew that she was powerless. As he sat very close to her in that cushioned nook, she might have been under the spell of a fabulous monster. Shivering with fear, she began to realize that her defenses were failing. Raised to this pitch, such a creature was all that had been, all that could ever be. Somehow she felt that the old prophecies were true. The living, sentient being whose hand now held hers was the incarnation of Evil. Was he, to whom in the past she owed so much, about to amuse himself in the rôle of Don Juan? Pray heaven he would be content to-night with that of Lucifer! Oh, why had she come to this house? Oh, why had she come there alone? She felt the touch of a cool palm on her lightly clad knees. It brought riot to her brain a hint of madness. She tried to free herself, but laughingly he pinned her down. If she could but get away! Held by his will she could hardly move or breathe. Was it possible, despite all she could do, that he was about to make good his vile boast of two months back? Where was the God in whom she believed? One part of her mind besought that Friend who for her had always been at the back of everything, while the other part glimpsed the joys of surrender to one who had declared war upon authority.