It was dark in there, and the air was heavy with the odor of mingled flowers. We groped about until we found something that had steps and cushions on it, where we sat down. We believed it to be the great altar of the sun, which we had been told was so placed in the center of the temple that from every point the sun’s rays touched it, and so lingered throughout the long day. It was probably about the safest spot we could find for the present. Then we waited, while the thunder roared and crashed and the rain outside came down. “Say,” whispered Gale, “but haven’t I set them swarming! Oh, Lord—what’s a bull without a bee-hive!” Ferratoni left us presently and went to the doorway, perhaps for a better mental current. We followed him, but all was dark beyond the lake. We presently left him there and returned to our comfort within. The thunder gradually died and the rain slackened, though the darkness did not pass. Suddenly Ferratoni hurried back to us. They were coming, he said. They had refused to respect the desires of the Princess, or even the sanctity of the temple. They considered that we had violated their hospitality, and they demanded our lives. They had not put anybody to death in that country for five hundred years, but they were ready to do so now, and to begin with us. They had condemned all new mechanisms, and even the invention of the Princess and her brother—the dark-dispeller—they were at this moment preparing to throw into the lake. The telephones they had destroyed, utterly. “Don’t blame ’em much for pitching that lighting machine into the lake,” muttered Gale, “I wanted to do that, myself. But how about _us_? Are we going to let ’em pitch _us_ in?” “There are two chances,” replied Ferratoni. “One is immediate flight to the court of the Prince, who will endeavor to give protection and assistance. The other is safety, here. It is pardon—the Pardon of Love.” “The what?” asked Gale. “Oh, yes, I remember, now. The old law that—um—yes—who are they?” “The three,” said Ferratoni, “the three whose hands were pressed in parting. They are willing to grant life—and love. They are coming even now, with the others. You must decide—and quickly!” It had grown very still in the temple. So still that Gale said afterwards he could hear his hair falling out. It was probably but a few seconds before he spoke, though it seemed much longer. “Nick,” he said, “we’re up against it, hard. It’s marry or move; which will you do?” My mind was a tumult and a confusion, but the memory of Edith Gale’s words became a path of light. “Move!” I said, “and with no waste of time!” “What about you, Tony? Are you in on the deal, too?” “I know not. I am at the will and service of the Princess. She has not yet spoken.” “And you, Bill, what do you vote for?” “I—I—that is—I’m with the Admiral, as always.” “And the Admiral is for getting out of here. I’ve no fault to find with the young ladies, but I’ve got business in Bottle Bay. Come!”