"I forget that I am powerless," he said bitterly. "Why do you ask my will in the matter? She was taken by force. I do not know where she is. I am in the hands of your men. I must do their will or yours. You say that I have gained great power by this separation, but it had nothing to do with will of mine—" "You have accepted the destiny imposed—that is enough. It honoured you in being as great as your strength. A weaker man than you would have fallen—" "But you ask my will now, when I see that yours is greater than mine. My will is to go to Anna Erivan now—to-night! She needs me—" "Do not speak bitterly, my son. We will abide by your will in this thing—" "You mean that?" "Yes. But first I will tell you that it is not the greater way." "Why?" "Any delay on the road to Tientsin now endangers your chance of seeing your leaders in life again. You accepted their mission. It is the work of a true _lanoo_ to fulfil it." "You think I did wrongly to delay in Nadiram on the way out?" "I have never chided you for that. Others felt it failure, but they did not understand. You did not fail there. There were three, my son, who went to the Manger on swiftest camels, bearing gifts to the Child whom they found; and another who found his quest by the way, and when he was old and the last of his quest finished, he met the Master face to face.... It was Rajananda who made his desert children understand about your tarrying in Nadiram and who made my son’s servant understand. But that is finished. It is different now. Delay now will leave your mission unfulfilled, and that, my son, would not leave the future shadowless—" "But Anna Erivan—in the hands of strangers—thinking me dead. If she still lives, I must go to her. A day, an hour—" "My son, what words were the last that you heard from the lips of this woman you love?" "She asked me to remember that she was mine—body and soul—" "Have you faith in that?" "Yes—but the desert-men—" "They are my children." "But she has not had you for strength." "She has not needed me for strength. My son, her faith is above yours. A woman rises into her faith more quickly than a man—" A kind of moan came from the white man’s lips. "You mean she is at peace—that she is not crying out for me?" "I mean that she is well and content to wait until you come. She is holding up her arms—for the white fire. When a woman is great enough for that, my son, her arms do not long remain empty." "Do you mean to tell me that Anna Erivan would have me go to Tientsin and report this mere verbal intelligence—before going to her?" Rajananda took his hand from Romney’s and fumbled in his robe for a moment, drawing forth a little leathern packet pinned with a seven-fold swastika of gold. From an inner fold of this he drew out a paper which Romney took with a thrill of passionate joy. He had never seen Anna Erivan’s writing, yet he knew that this was penned by her own hand: