“He has done a most noble thing, O Rorka. A most terrible scourge has come upon the Hall of Sorrows. A fire broke out. How or where it started no one can tell, but when I reached the place, it was a raging furnace, and the poor captives were beating against the gates in their frenzy to get out. The heat was intense—their skins were blistering. I landed safely, and rushed to undo the gates. But even as I did so, great tongues of fire curled out and licked round me. See, O Rorka, my hands are burnt—my hair is scorched. Three times I essayed to unlock the padlock, but the flames drove me back. Suddenly I heard a cry, and Arrack burst through the flames. ‘Throw me the keys,’ he cried, and his tone commanded and I obeyed. I watched him as he touched the red hot metal—the flames were fiercer than before. He never trembled or grew hasty. Although his clothes were in flames, and the flesh burnt from his fingers, yet still he strove to open the prison door. At length he succeeded. Five figures fell out on to the ground, burnt and still. I called to Arrack to save himself, but his only answer was to beat his way through the avenue of fire. Minutes passed and he did not return. We looked at the poor burnt things at our feet—their souls had departed, but as we looked their mutilated bodies disappeared. Then through the smoke and grime Arrack appeared bearing in his arms a burden which he laid at my feet. He returned again and again, and yet again. Five women’s lives he saved, and he returned again to save the life of a pet animal. Then, O Rorka, he fell at my feet. His face was burnt beyond recognition; his poor hands useless; his body one mass of blisters. He, and those he saved we brought to Hoormoori. The women are now in safety, but Arrack says his call has come. Oh, my Rorka, this then is my prayer. His one wish now, is to enter into glory through the Sacrament of Schlerik-itata. Will you grant him pardon, and answer his prayer?” Alan was much moved. “Go, return to Arrack. Tell him Misrath shall come and administer the Sacrament himself.” “May I say that?” “Yes. Where is he now?” “On board the air bird. He is in great pain, but I think I could get him taken to the Temple in safety.” “See to it at once, my Waz.” Hurriedly Alan sent for Misrath, and told him the news. “He has purged his sins indeed,” said he. So, with the rites of Schlerik-itata, Arrack left Keemar. He bent and kissed the hem of Alan’s garment, and sank back exhausted in his chair. And as the incense covered him, his voice could be heard murmuring—“Great White Glory, I come—I come.” “And so there is to be no more Hall of Sorrows,” said Chlorie softly. “No, my darling.” “It’s gone for ever?” “Yes. It has served its purpose, but I don’t think its omission will bring more sin into Keemar.” “I believe you are right, Alan. It was a terrible place, and sometimes I think the punishment was too great for the sin.”