The tea was served before them. The Hunchback thanked the servant and bade him go. Romney absently reached for his teacup, but Nifton Bend’s hand touched his: "Don’t drink that. My passage out is doubtless in it, if not yours. I don’t think they want you particularly, though they would, if they understood.... Ah no, they have doubtless murdered my servant. No one but his master sends him on an errand into the street—" Now the pinkish storks of the portieres had real moisture about their lower joints, a faint but veritable mist rising before them. Smoothly Nifton Bend had allowed the steaming contents of his cup to soak into the wall-hangings behind his chair. He did the same with Romney’s cup. The fabric slowly sucked in the liquid.... The thrall of the great man deepened in Romney’s heart. His own romance was near and vibrant in the room; yet he was touched by a dread which the other did not share, apparently had not thought of.... Was Moira Kelvin safely sleeping after her night of devotion to the sleepless one? "Is it the Japanese secret agents that became active last night at the _Nestor_ and here?" Romney asked quickly. "No. Our work never appeared to get to them—thanks to your part with the little old spy whom you liked so well. It is China punishing the younger generation." "But did he not work in the laboratory—that same spy? I saw him coming up from there—a trap-door—" "Only for a day or two, at the last. We were watching him before his knee-cap snapped. He could not have gotten in his report." These were old matters. Romney was troubled about the woman, and burned with the peril of the man before him. "Perhaps they do not want you," he said. "Our enemy is in this house," the Hunchback answered. "I shall not be allowed to leave. At least, not to go far—" "Do you think you would be molested if you walked out now—with Moira Kelvin and me?" Nifton Bend seemed thinking aloud: "They may have but one agent working here, but ten men, one after another, would die gladly for my life. They are not afraid. If it is not this tea, it will be another way and soon. "They will watch.... But we have touched the vision. The young men will carry it through. What are three lives compared to starting the races of the world into a new wisdom, a new comeliness?" "While you live, _you are Young China_—and what of the woman?" "Ah, don’t, Romney—" "Is she safe?" "What?" "Are you sure that she will not be wanted?" "China would not touch her—yet how strange I did not think, even of the thousandth chance! Still, don’t you see, I carry to her the menace of myself. Romney, you must help me—" Romney was hushed by the spectacle of Nifton Bend’s sudden dread—and this from a man scarcely capable of fear for himself. He saw the great constructive worker for mankind turning helplessly to cope with a personal issue. He pressed the General’s hand. "You can count on me," he said quietly. "I don’t think the game’s up—"