John’s first act on his return on the Monday to London from his rather nightmarish visit to Doe Hill was to communicate at once with Helen Sholto. He arranged that they should lunch together at a quiet restaurant in Soho. Here, in privacy, with none to overhear and none to oversee, he unburdened his heart. He did not think well to let Helen know of the Society, much less of his own transactions with it: how in spite of some deep protesting instinct, he had been induced to take the oath of allegiance; how in the main he had yielded to the powerful arguments of their friend in common, George Hierons; and how, having taken the plunge with a full perception of all that it involved, he was ready to defend his action. For he now saw with a clearness greater than ever before, that the malign growth which was so rapidly eating its way to the core of the state must, no matter what the cost to the body politic, be at once cut out. One thing, however, Endor decided to do. That was to tell Helen of the charge this man, Saul Hartz, had laid upon her good name. Such, indeed, was his real purpose in going to her at once. The impulse of his nature would not allow him a moment’s rest until the woman he loved was rescued from the clutches of the monster of infamy whom she was loyally serving. Without preface Endor told her what Saul Hartz had said. “He says you are his mistress.” As word by word her ear felt their whispered fall, the surge of emotion in his voice filled her with pain. Before the blow itself, however, not a nerve quivered. But her heart turned to ice. “I felt like killing him. But these are not heroic days. Besides, such _canaille_ are not worth it--if one has a work to do.” “Not worth it--no,” she said at last, gently, and then, a woman: “Tell me, what led him, do you suppose, to say that?” “Pure devilment. He knows you’re leaving him, he understands your value, and to give you up to me, of all people, is for one of his nature a bath of vitriol.” “But it isn’t like him,” said Helen, “to indulge a mere spite. He is too big a man. There must have been a deeper, a subtler motive.” “What do you think it can be?” “He must have reckoned on an outside chance of your believing what he said.” John’s look of sheer incredulity gave her a sudden insight into those hidden depths of character she had yet to penetrate. This new knowledge brought a glow of light to her eyes. “I think,” he said, “as soon as you have lunched, you had better go to the telephone and tell them you are not returning to the Office. Here and now you must close this man down. You can never go back to Universe Building.” She did not answer at once. Seconds only were recorded by heart and brain, but when she spoke a weight of years had been added to her voice. “I think you are right,” she said.