"Neither do I," echoed Roger. "But this much I know. The main point is to save Ernest. The Solar Plant is secondary. He's got to do what's right in this." "You'll never get away with it, Roger," exclaimed Dick. "Ernest really believes in this superman stuff. He's a German." "He's got to do what's right," repeated Roger, this time with a tired break in his voice. "I feel as if I'd never believe in a man again unless he does. What can I do, Elsa?" Elsa shook her head. "I don't know. If you people will think back you'll realize you've all been raised on adulation of Germany. Ernest is merely the logical product of his ancestry and environment." "How did you escape the poison, Elsa?" asked Charley. "Overstuffed," she replied. "And I'm not alone. There's any number of us American children of German parents who've been fed up on the 'Vaterland' stuff." "Elsa," asked Dick, suddenly, "is Ernest a spy?" The girl turned crimson. Roger interrupted quickly: "Oh, I say, Dick, give Ernest first chance to answer that question." "No, I'll answer it," replied Elsa. "He wasn't up to the time he came to the desert, I'm sure. He was just wonderfully prepared soil, ready for the planting of any sort of seed. What Mr. Werner did to him, I don't know." "Do you think Werner is a spy?" asked Charley. "Probably, of an exalted order. As I look back now, he's been using Papa and all the rest of the silly Turnverein, any way he wants to. How much they know we never shall know. My heavens, what a dirty place the world is!" No one replied to this comment. Roger sighed deeply and a pitying glance passed between the two girls as he dropped his head dejectedly on his hands. "Well, let's postpone more talk until morning," said Dick. "Elsa, going to help me put the menagerie to bed?" he asked. "Yes," replied Elsa with alacrity, adding, as she followed Dick to the door, "Don't you think Roger'd better sleep here, to-night? With Gustav in the living tent--" Charley nodded. "I'll make up the cot on the porch." She eyed Roger's drooping head with tear-dimmed eyes, as the others went out. Roger lifted his worn face and gave Charley a long look. She was recovering some of her tone. Her eyes were bright and though the deepened sadness of her mouth would never lessen, the despondency that had marked her face when in repose ever since Felicia's death was gone. As Roger watched her, it seemed to him that if Charley as well as Ernest failed him, the blackness of the pit would indeed close around him. He rose suddenly and crossed the room to kneel beside her. He clasped her hands against his heart, and said slowly: "Charley, look in my face and tell me that you realize I am a changed man! That you need never fear my temper again!" Charley caught her lower lip which would tremble, between her teeth, and steady, wise, brown eyes gazed long into deep-set, wearied, blue eyes. "What happened, Roger?" Charley asked, at last.