For a long time I could not persuade them to let me go. But I pleaded so hard and set out the arguments so forcibly that at last I persuaded them. For it was clear that if Lembken, realizing that his power was waning, should accept our offer, then my plan was the wisest; and, if he refused, our desperate chance would lose but little by my death. It was even possible that the rôle for which he had cast me was the same that I was to play for the Cause. He had meant to use me against Sanson; and the more I thought of it the stronger grew my conviction that he had meant to have me challenge Sanson in the Temple. So, one by one, the opposing arguments ended, and the committee leader gave me my instructions. “You must evade the battleplanes and enter London afoot,” he said. “You will proceed to the People’s House, demand admission, and offer Lembken our terms: his palace, honors, wealth and pleasures. If he accepts you will return to us bearing his acceptance in the form of writing, that we may have a hold on him to use with Sanson, should he betray us afterward. If you are detected by the searchlights before you reach London, you will be taken before Hancock, to whom you will make your demand for an interview with his chief. A messenger will remain posted near this meeting place in order to convey you to us on your return, wherever we may be. Now, God be with you, Arnold!” I think they understood the turmoil in my heart, for they were very considerate, and troubled me with no more suggestions than these. For myself, I confess that the thought of Esther’s peril obliterated from my mind nearly all other considerations, and, in truth, I cared more for her safety than for the Cause. I could do nothing till the time of her awakening came; but, when she awakened, I meant to be at her side. The rushlights were blown out, and we bade each other adieu at the cellar entrance, and separated. Many of those who were present had traveled miles through the forests in order to attend the meeting. It had been arranged that David and Elizabeth should make their quarters with the band commanded by the leader, to which the bishop and Paul belonged. I was to accompany them as far as the old road, where our paths divided. When we reached it, Elizabeth turned and, putting her hands upon my shoulders, looked very earnestly at me. “Arnold,” she said, “the day is near when we four shall be friends in a happier world. God bless you and protect the woman you love.” I pressed her hands. Then David grasped my own in his. “Good-bye, Arnold,” he said. “The Providence that brought you to me will act to save us all.” And he, too, was gone. I waited at the edge of the old road, watching them disappear among the trees. The last thing that I saw was the bishop’s white beard, a spot in the darkness. Then I was alone, with the London road before me, and a mission as desperate as any that was ever undertaken, and as pregnant with possibilities.