"This is your work," and he pointed to the mutilations, "and for that and many other things, Harietta, you shall at last pay the price. Now come, I will take you back to your lover, and your husband--both will be waiting and longing for your return. Come!" She dropped on the floor and refused to move so that he was obliged to call in the servant, and together they lifted her, the one holding her up, while the other wrapped her in her cloak. Then, each supporting her, they made their way down the stairs, and placed her in the waiting motor, Verisschenzko taking the seat at her side--and so they drove to the Universal. She should sleep to-night in peace and have time to think over the events of the evening. But to-morrow he must no longer delay about giving information to the authorities. She cowered in the motor until they had almost reached the door, when she flung her arms round his neck and kissed him wildly again, sobbing with rage and terror: "You shall not marry Amaryllis; I will kill you both first." He smiled in the darkness, and she felt that he was mocking her, and suddenly turned and bit his arm, her teeth meeting in the cloth of his fur-lined coat. He shook her off as he would have done a rat: "Never quite apropos, Harietta! Always a little late! But here we have arrived, and you will not care for your admirers, the concierge, and the lift men, to see you in such a state. Put your veil over your face and go quietly to your rooms. I will wish you a very good-night--and farewell!" He got out and stood with mock respect uncovered to assist her, and she was obliged to follow him. The hall porter and the numerous personnel of the hotel were looking on. He bowed once more and appeared to kiss her hand: "Good-bye, Harietta! Sleep well." Then he re-entered the car and was whirled away. She staggered for a second and then moved forward to the lift. But as she went in, two tall men who had been waiting stepped forward and joined her, and all three were carried aloft, and as she walked to her salon she saw that they were following her. "There will be no more kicks for thee, my Angel!" the maid, peeping from a door, whispered exultingly to Fou-Chow! "Thy Marie has saved thee at last!" * * * * * When Verisschenzko again reached his own sitting room he paced up and down for half an hour. He was horribly agitated, and angry with himself for being so. Denzil had been right; when it came to the point, it was a ghastly thing to have to do, to give a woman up to death--even though her crimes amply justified such action. And what was death? To such a one as Harietta what would death mean? A sinking into oblivion for a period, and then a rebirth in some sphere of suffering where the first lessons of the meanings of things might be learned? That would seem to be the probable working of the law--so that she might eventually obtain a soul.