With a quick movement Jim flung Henry off. It was useless to expect sanity from this trembling, fanatical creature. Without a word or look he left him, and Henry stood watching Jim’s receding figure down the alley of trees. "And now I’ve driven out of her life the only interest in it, and she will hate me for that, too." There was only one thing for him to do—he must get to his own quarters and send some message of excuse to his mother. He turned into a side path. He could hear the dance music and the gayety of the groups scattered near the pergola. Diana was there. He could see her, pale but with perfect poise, assisting Lady Elizabeth. Even Jim was at Lady Elizabeth’s side. He envied them their control; in his condition it would be folly for him to venture near them. As he turned towards the house he met Bates carrying a telegram. "I’ve been looking for your lordship," he said. "The message came about half an hour ago." He remembered Petrie ind the expected word as he tore open the wire. It read: "Impossible to give any definite news. Still probing matter. Will be down to-morrow afternoon." God!—and he had this to add to his night’s vigil! Bates left him. He threw out his arms as he stumbled into a chair. He knew and admitted that he alone was responsible for it all. But he did not know that he had fanned to life the love that Diana and Jim now acknowledged to themselves for the first time. That night their fight for happiness began. *CHAPTER X* In the Towers four desperate souls fought their battle, and to none of them did the dawn bring comfort. In her room Lady Elizabeth sat motionless before her open window, and, like Agrippina, saw the long line of destruction that the child she had borne had brought to her and to her house. Shortly before the end of the evening’s entertainment, she had received a message from Henry, begging to be excused, as a matter of great importance had arisen which prevented him from remaining with his guests.