The restless fit passed, and Constans leaned out upon the window-sill, watching the darkening sky. A fierce revulsion seized him as he pictured to himself the scene upon which the morning sun would look--the kennels red with blood, the horrors huddled in every corner, all the dreadful jetsam cast up by the ensanguined tide of war. Of necessity, perhaps, must such things be--the endurance of a lesser evil that the greater wrong might be forever blotted out. And yet his heart was heavy. He looked out again upon the ruined wilderness of stone that hemmed him in. How he hated this monstrous city of Doom, infernal mother of treacheries and spoils! How weary he was of wandering through its stony labyrinths, fit symbol of his own oft-thwarted hopes! A vision of green fields and quiet waters rose before him, he seemed to be walking knee-deep in the lush grass starred with purple asters and the sweet meadow-flag--it was the old home paddock of the Greenwood Keep; there was the copse of white beeches, and through it came the flutter of a woman's gown. Eagerly he watched as she came to meet him--Issa; then she turned her face full towards him, and he saw that it was Esmay. He sprang forward. A roll of drums beating the charge, and Constans started. "At last!" he said. * * * * * Piers Minor, keeping as closely as possible to cover, worked his way slowly to the northward and towards the Stockader camp, on the Palace Road. But, being unfamiliar with the topography of the district, he insensibly kept edging into dangerous proximity to the Citadel Square; suddenly he found himself within a short block of its eastern front. He turned to retreat, and came face to face with a slender, black-eyed youth who must have been following close upon his heels. Discovered, he tried to dodge, but Piers Minor was too quick, and they closed. The youth struggled gallantly, but the Stockader had all the advantage in strength; in another moment Piers Minor had his antagonist crushed helplessly into a corner. He looked at the boy contemptuously. "Not a sound, mind, or I'll twist your throat as I would a meadow-lark's. Why were you following me?" The black eyes snapped back at him unwinkingly. "Let me speak, then--you hurt me." Piers Minor loosened his hold upon the slender throat. "Go on." "You are a Stockader, and there is a young man with you, fair-haired and with dark eyes--Constans by name? Do you know him?" "Well, and if I do?" "Will you tell me where and how I can see him? Just a word, or, if not, then to send him a message." "It is impossible," said Piers Minor, stolidly. "This is a time of war, and only for life and death----" "It is a question of that," insisted the youth. Piers Minor shook himself impatiently. "Speak out, can't you? What is it that he would care to know?" "Tell him, then, that last night Esmay disappeared, and yet still remains in Arcadia House. He will understand, for he knows Quinton Edge."