They parted, the Wanderer continuing on his way along the street with the same calm, cold, peaceful expression which had elicited Keyork’s admiration, and Keyork himself going forward to Unorna’s door. His face was very grave. He entered the house by a small side door and ascended by a winding staircase directly to the room from which, an hour or two earlier, he had carried the still unconscious Israel Kafka. Everything was as he had left it, and he was glad to be certified that Unorna had not disturbed the aged sleeper in his absence. Instead of going to her at once he busied himself in making a few observations and in putting in order certain of his instruments and appliances. Then at last he went and found Unorna. She was walking up and down among the plants and he saw at a glance that something had happened. Indeed the few words spoken by the Wanderer had suggested to him the possibility of a crisis, and he had purposely lingered in the inner apartment, in order to give her time to recover her self-possession. She started slightly when he entered, and her brows contracted, but she immediately guessed from his expression that he was not in one of his aggressive moods. “I have just rectified a mistake which might have had rather serious consequences,” he said, stopping before her and speaking earnestly and quietly. “A mistake?” “We remembered everything, except that our wandering friend and Kafka were very likely to meet, and that Kafka would in all probability refer to his delightful journey to the south in my company.” “That is true!” exclaimed Unorna with an anxious glance. “Well? What have you done?” “I met the Wanderer in the street. What could I do? I told him that Israel Kafka was a little mad, and that his harmless delusions referred to a journey he was supposed to have made with me, and to an equally imaginary passion which he fancies he feels for you.” “That was wise,” said Unorna, still pale. “How came we to be so imprudent! One word, and he might have suspected--” “He could not have suspected all,” answered Keyork. “No man could suspect that.” “Nevertheless, I suppose what we have done is not exactly--justifiable.” “Hardly. It is true that criminal law has not yet adjusted itself to meet questions of suggestion and psychic influence, but it draws the line, most certainly, somewhere between these questions and the extremity to which we have gone. Happily the law is at an immeasurable distance from science, and here, as usual in such experiments, no one could prove anything, owing to the complete unconsciousness of the principal witnesses.” “I do not like to think that we have been near to such trouble,” said Unorna. “Nor I. It was fortunate that I met the Wanderer when I did.” “And the other? Did he wake as I ordered him to do? Is all right? Is there no danger of his suspecting anything?”