"Yes, I know, but suppose there should be a chance--the hand that has moved the Shining One to strike, may it not be lifted again to repair the evil?" "I do not understand," said Piers Minor. And thereupon Nanna described as clearly as she could the part that Prosper, the priest, had played in the impending tragedy. Surely he might be prevailed upon to avert the judgment from the innocent. He who had released the flames could as easily restrain them. Or, at least, Arcadia House might be spared. "But where are we to find him?" Nanna pointed down the street. "There--in the House of Power." "Come," he said, and they went on quickly. At the entrance to the temple of the Shining One they stopped and listened. The air was all tremulous with the hum of the rapidly revolving dynamos, the thud of the reciprocating machinery, and the grinding of the badly lubricated shafting. Piers Minor knew that he was horribly afraid, but for very shame he could not hold back. Together they stole a little way within the vaulted entrance and listened again. Nothing but the roar of the machinery. The vast hall would have been in utter darkness save for the glare of the conflagration; as it was, they could see clearly that there was nobody within. "The little room beyond," said Nanna, and shivered. These were forbidden sights for a woman's eyes, and the god would be very angry. Yet it must be done. They joined hands like two children and went forward. Now they stood, wondering, within the little room with its low ceiling and bare white walls. Could it be that so great a god as the Shining One could dwell here? An empty room, save for the oak chair standing in the middle of the floor and that curious-appearing board fixed against the wall, with its multiplicity of keys, knobs, and levers. That was all, and yet a vague terror laid its hand upon them; they remained motionless and speechless. Something, some one had entered the room--slow footsteps and the rustle of trailing garments. Then the sound of a lever snapped to its connecting points, and the great, shining face flamed out of the darkness. In his intense absorption, the old priest saw nothing of the two who also waited there. Advancing to the centre of the room, he stood and looked upon the countenance of the Shining One, while a man might count twoscore. Then he spoke, slowly and hesitatingly, as one who excuses himself of grievous fault: "Let the Shining One be content--it is accomplished. And now, O father, have mercy. For the sins of thy people--a sacrifice----" With unfaltering step he walked to the great chair and seated himself. Then, in a clear voice, "Lord--if indeed thou art lord----" There was the click of a switch-key; the man's body half rose from its seat and sank back again.