Waz-Y-Kjesta was frankly puzzled. “Yesterday I fixed up the screw for the outer valve,” said he, “yet to-day it has gone again. Surely I couldn’t have dreamt it—yet it could not go without hands.” “Perhaps some one has moved it, purposely, for spite,” suggested Alan. Y-Kjesta laughed. “Not in Keemar. Besides what for? Who could do such a foolish thing?” True, the faith of a Keemarnian was wonderful. Alan longed to confide in him—yet dared not. For the second time he made a mistake. Alan saw Morar and asked her if the Princess’ apartments were quite safe from intruders. “Quite,” said she. “There is only a very small window, and the doors have heavy bars.” “She always keeps them locked?” “Always.” That night Alan remained in his own cabin, and worn out with continual watching, fell asleep at his open window. He had a dream so vivid that he thought it was real, and awoke with a start. Chlorie—the lady of his heart had appeared to him, arms outstretched, eyes swimming with tears—“My Lord,” she whispered. “The Cave of Whispering Madness—the Cave—” Her voice trailed away, something dark came before his eyes, there was the sound of a scuffle, a small cry, he felt a stabbing pain, and he awoke. It was broad daylight, and his door was flung open wide and Waz-Y-Kjesta, usually so placid and calm, was staring at him and calling him in excited distress. “My Alan! Awake! I beg of you—” “What is it?” “The Ipso-Rorka—is gone.” “Gone?” “Gone! She has disappeared.” “Are you sure?” “Morar, her maid, left her as usual last night. This morning she knocked as usual for the Princess to open the door, which by the way, she always keeps barred, but she could get no answer. Thinking her mistress had overslept she went round to look in at the window. The bed was empty—Chlorie was not there” “Where is Kulmervan?” asked Alan thickly. “Kulmervan?” “Yes. Is he on the boat?” “I do not know” “Go and see at once, and I’ll go to Morar” The Ipso-Rorka’s little maid was crying bitterly. Without any ceremony Alan forced the door. The bed was rumpled and rough; the silken coverlets twisted and torn—Chlorie had not gone without a struggle! Waz-Y-Kjesta came to Alan, with consternation written all over his face. “Three are missing altogether” said he “Can some evil spirit have taken them? Kulmervan and Waiko are nowhere to be found” “I thought as much” said Alan savagely. He glanced rapidly round the room. A pile of papers lay on a desk. He smoothed them out. There, in a little blue envelope addressed to himself, was a letter from his dear one. He opened it quickly. “_My Lord_, (it ran) Since you saved me from my kinsman, Kulmervan my cousin has once more forced himself into my presence. He is possessed of a madness. I beg of you save me from him. I have looked at you often and I know now I was deceived by him when he whispered tales of your evil doing. I trust you implicitly. I do as you bid me. I command your help.