CHLORIE” Then underneath was written, “He has spoken to me again through my window. He threatens me with dishonour—disgrace. He talks of the Cave of Whispering Madness. Come to me on receipt of this” “The cur” muttered Alan. He turned to Y-Kjesta. “Where is the Cave of Whispering-Madness?” “I have never heard of it, my Alan” “Listen. I am going to find Chlorie. Wait for me here with the air bird. Should I fail to come by the time the Kymo has sunk ten times—go at once to the Rorka, and ask him to send his aid here” “Where then, is Chlorie?” “I don’t know, but I’m going to do my best to find out. This island isn’t very big—ten miles square at the most, and I intend to search every bit of it if necessary, to find her” “What about Kulmervan and Waiko?” “Should you see them, put them under restraint. Bar their windows, and prevent their escape. They are both possessed of the madness—but there, I doubt if you’ll see them. Where Chlorie is—there shall I also find Kulmervan and Waiko” “Can I come too?” “No, my friend. You stay here and watch in case Chlorie comes. I go now—I shall take no provision with me—fruit will be my meat, and the sap of the water tree my drink. Farewell” and Alan leapt over the bulwarks and disappeared from sight in the thick brush and undergrowth of the island. CHAPTER IX ALAN—THE KNIGHT ERRANT As Alan leapt over the bulwarks, his quick eye caught sight of footmarks, two going one way, and two the other, with perhaps five feet between them. “So,” said he grimly to himself, “they were carrying her between them. Poor little Chlorie.” The tracks were easy to follow, they led down to the sea and along the seashore. Steadily they went on and Alan followed dauntlessly. There was no attempt made to cover their traces. On they went, carrying their burden between them. They had about ten hours start, and although night was falling, Alan continued at his self imposed task. Darker and darker it grew, until at length it was impossible to see the footmarks, so he sat down hopelessly to wait for the dawn. The night was chilly and the rain poured down, so Alan was soaked to the skin, and shivered violently as the grey dawn rose. The rain had almost obliterated the marks, but they showed up faintly here and there on the wet sand. He had no time to look at the scenery through which he was passing—his one thought was Chlorie—not the Princess, but Chlorie the woman, Chlorie his love. On, on he went all day, and still the footprints showed here and there. Night came, and again he was forced to rest and wait for the light. He was colder than ever, he shivered violently, and longed for the warmth of the sun. That night he never slept at all, and he rose in the early morning light stiff and tired. His head felt light, his limbs ached, and the one thing he could think of coherently was Chlorie.