“In the meantime,”--his quiet voice deepened to intensity--“we who share great and unhappy secrets must keep close together in the thoughts of one another. We can but watch out in the hope that somehow--somewhen--a sign may be given.” Helen was not able to speak. A single tear forced its way slowly along an eyelid and down a thin cheek. Just as she was about to turn away in the direction of her club, an afterthought, swift and half-formed, caused Hierons still to detain her. “There’s just one thing,” he said, “that--that occurs to me.” In odd contrast to his habitual air of decision his voice was halting, his words fragmentary. “There may ... may be a possibility ... and yet no ... after all ... it hardly bears thinking about.” In a fashion abrupt and strange he checked his words. “It wouldn’t be wise to....” Helen looked at him disconcertedly. The man who was speaking was not the George Hierons she knew. “No, we won’t clutch at straws,” he said enigmatically. “Let us continue to meet the facts of the case. But whenever you want me, ring up my hotel and I will come to you at once.” She thanked him again. Then she turned and walked slowly down the street. For a minute or more he stood to watch that tragic figure pass from view. An unspeakable oppression weighed heavily upon him. And then in the midst of it, with a feeling that was half nausea, half elation, a quick thought recalled to his mind that Lien Weng was in London. He remembered, moreover, that the President of the Council was staying at the Ritz. As if drawn by a new chain of ideas Hierons turned suddenly and crossed the road. One more brief moment of reflection followed. Then slowly and sombrely he made his way to the doors of the hotel. LV Helen, in the meantime, had reached the end of Dover Street and had entered her club. It was now one o’clock, but she could not bear the thought of food. Her mind was in a state of such imminent disruption that it seemed to call for every resource of a powerful will to hold it together. She found an armchair in a quiet corner and gave herself up to the task of calming her brain. A horrible feeling of suffocation came to her, tinged with physical agony. She felt as a mouse must feel when caught in a trap. All the same, the entire mechanism of a clear and powerful intelligence was working furiously. A very vigorous human animal was at bay. Every resource that her body and soul possessed, and they possessed many, had now come automatically into play. No matter what the cost to others or to herself, she must save the life of the man she loved. Crudely stated that was the point her overdriven mind had reached after she had spent a long hour trying to dragoon it. At the end of that time she sat down at a table and took up a pen.