The Wanderer was in sore straits, for the minutes were passing quickly and he remembered the last look on Kafka’s face, and how he had left the Moravian standing before the weapons on the wall. And nothing had been done yet, not so much as an order given not to admit him if he came to the house. At any moment he might be upon them. And the storm showed no signs of being spent. Her wild, convulsive sobbing was painful to hear. If he tried to move, she dragged herself frantically at his feet so that he feared lest he should tread upon her hands. He pitied her now most truly, though he guessed rightly that to show his pity would be but to add fuel to the blazing flame. Then, in the interval of a second, as she drew breath to weep afresh, he fancied that he heard sounds below as of the great door being opened and closed again. With a quick, strong movement, stooping low he put his arms about her and raised her from the floor. At his touch, her sobbing ceased for a moment, as though she had wanted only that to soothe her. In spite of him she let her head rest upon his shoulder, letting him still feel that if he did not support her weight with his arm she would fall again. In the midst of the most passionate and real outburst of despairing love there was no artifice which she would not use to be nearer to him, to extort even the semblance of a caress. “I heard some one come in below,” he said, hurriedly. “It must be he. Decide quickly what to do. Either stay or fly--you have not ten seconds for your choice.” She turned her imploring eyes to his. “Let me stay here and end it all--” “That you shall not!” he exclaimed, dragging her towards the end of the hall opposite to the usual entrance, and where he knew that there must be a door behind the screen of plants. His hold tightened upon her yielding waist. Her head fell back and her full lips parted in an ecstasy of delight as she felt herself hurried along in his arms, scarcely touching the floor with her feet. “Ah--now--now! Let it come now!” she sighed. “It must be now--or never,” he said almost roughly. “If you will leave this house with me now, very well. But leave this room you shall. If I am to meet that man and stop him, I will meet him alone.” “Leave you alone? Ah no--not that----” They had reached the exit now. At the same instant both heard some one enter at the other end and rapid footsteps on the marble pavement. “Which is it to be?” asked the Wanderer, pale and calm. He had pushed her through before him and seemed ready to go back alone. With violent strength she drew him to her, closed the door and slipped the strong steel bolt across below the lock. There was a dim light in the passage. “Together, then,” she said. “I shall at least be with you--a little longer.” “Is there another way out of the house?” asked the Wanderer anxiously. “More than one. Come with me.”