That it had not done so was annoying. He had the highest opinion of this young woman. Emphatically she was beginning to count with her own sex. An agile pen, a clear perception, a quick tongue, a fine presence were winning an ever-growing authority on the lecture platform and in the press. Maker and unmaker of reputations, as the Colossus secretly flattered himself that he was, it went to his heart that one to whom he was ready to offer a crown should cross over to the camp of a weak and insignificant enemy--an enemy who, in point of fact, was already broken. Moreover, she had resigned her position in the Office. That she was still there was because Saul Hartz was entitled to claim due notice of the termination of the contract. But there was no open breach in their relations. Even if his misprison was as grave as John Endor declared it to be, and now that Helen’s eyes were open, all things conspired to make the fact more credible, she could not forget the past, nor could she quite overcome the curious power of the man himself. Much was about to happen to John and Helen, and to this subtle foe who was bent on the destruction of the one, and who, besides, was fully determined that the other should be made to serve his will. Ten days passed, however, without a hint of the cards that destiny was about to play. In the Office things went on as usual. Saul Hartz was inclined to believe--like the Iron Duke he was in a situation much exposed to fools he always said--that the mandate from the Council of Seven was a hoax and that there would be no developments, when the time came to keep his week-end engagement at Doe Hill. XXIII On Saturday afternoon Saul Hartz left London by the 3:20 from Paddington. It was a long and full train and the Colossus whose habit was to travel _en prince_ whenever possible, had, in spite of all that his equerry could do, to share a carriage with other passengers. Slight attention was paid to these. Acutely observant on occasion of the world around him he could also be the reverse. And now as he entered the compartment and took the seat that had been retained for him in the corner next the door, he gave to his fellow travelers, of whom there were three, a glance so perfunctory that it told nothing. He proceeded to immerse himself in a memoir of a publicist lately dead whom he had intimately known. It amused him to compare his own estimate of the man with that presented to the world in this official biography. When the train stopped at Slough, two of the other occupants of the carriage got out, leaving the one who remained in the corner farthest from Saul Hartz. At first, the Colossus paid him no more attention than before, but as the train began to move out of the station, he chanced to look up from the book whose naïveté had palled already, and suddenly caught the eye of his fellow traveler. It was the eye of John Endor.