"This, they say, is what is to happen. First will come upon us Lugur and Yolara with all their host. Because of fear the Shining One will lurk behind within its lair; for despite all, the Dweller _does_ dread the Three, and only them. With this host the Voice and the priestess will strive to conquer. And if they do, then will they be strong enough, too, to destroy us all. For if they take the abode they banish from the Dweller all fear and sound the end of the Three. "Then will the Shining One be all free indeed; free to go out into the world, free to do there as it wills! "But if they do not conquer--and the Shining One comes not to their aid, abandoning them even as it abandoned its own _Taithu_--then will the Three be loosed from a part of their doom, and they will go through the Portal, seek the Shining One beyond the Veil, and, piercing it through fear's opening, destroy it." "That's quite clear," murmured the O'Keefe in my ear. "Weaken the morale--then smash. I've seen it happen a dozen times in Europe. While they've got their nerve there's not a thing you can do; get their nerve--and not a thing can they do. And yet in both cases they're the same men." Lakla had been listening again. She turned, thrust out hands to Larry, a wild hope in her eyes--and yet a hope half shamed. "They say," she cried, "that they give us choice. Remembering that your world doom hangs in the balance, we have choice--choice to stay and help fight Yolara's armies--and they say they look not lightly on that help. Or choice to go--and if so be you choose the latter, then will they show another way that leads into your world!" A flush had crept over the O'Keefe's face as she was speaking. He took her hands and looked long into the golden eyes; glancing up I saw the Trinity were watching them intently--imperturbably. "What do you say, _mavourneen_?" asked Larry gently. The handmaiden hung her head; trembled. "Your words shall be mine, O one I love," she whispered. "So going or staying, I am beside you." "And you, Goodwin?" he turned to me. I shrugged my shoulders--after all I had no one to care. "It's up to you, Larry," I remarked, deliberately choosing his own phraseology. The O'Keefe straightened, squared his shoulders, gazed straight into the flame-flickering eyes. "We stick!" he said briefly. Shamefacedly I recall now that at the time I thought this colloquialism not only irreverent, but in somewhat bad taste. I am glad to say I was alone in that bit of weakness. The face that Lakla turned to Larry was radiant with love, and although the shamed hope had vanished from the sweet eyes, they were shining with adoring pride. And the marble visages of the Three softened, and the little flames died down. "Wait," said Lakla, "there is one other thing they say we must answer before they will hold us to that promise--wait--"