The Wanderer had told his story with perfect truth and yet in a way which entirely concealed the very important part Unorna’s passion for him had played in the sequence of events. Seeing that Keyork asked no further questions he felt satisfied that he had accomplished his purpose as he had intended, and that the sage suspected nothing. He would have been very much disconcerted had he known that the latter had long been aware of Unorna’s love, and was quite able to guess at the cause of Kafka’s sudden appearance and extreme excitement. Indeed, so soon as he had finished the short narrative, his mind reverted with curiosity to Keyork himself, and he wondered what the little man had meant by his amazing outburst of gratitude on hearing of Unorna’s safety. Perhaps he loved her. More impossible things than that had occurred in the Wanderer’s experience. Or, possibly, he had an object to gain in exaggerating his thankfulness to Unorna’s preserver. He knew that Keyork rarely did anything without an object, and that, although he was occasionally very odd and excitable, he was always in reality perfectly well aware of what he was doing. He was roused from his speculations by Keyork’s voice. “There will be no difficulty in securing Kafka,” he said. “The real question is, what shall we do with him? He is very much in the way at present, and he must be disposed of at once, or we shall have more trouble. How infinitely more to the purpose it would have been if he had wisely determined to cut his own throat instead of Unorna’s! But young men are so thoughtless!” “I will only say one thing,” said the Wanderer, “and then I will leave the direction to you. The poor fellow has been driven mad by Unorna’s caprice and cruelty. I am determined that he shall not be made to suffer gratuitously anything more.” “Do you think that Unorna was intentionally cruel to him?” inquired Keyork. “I can hardly believe that. She has not a cruel nature.” “You would have changed your mind, if you had seen her this afternoon. But that is not the question. I will not allow him to be ill-treated.” “No, no! of course not!” Keyork answered with eager assent. “But of course you will understand that we have to deal with a dangerous lunatic, and that it may be necessary to use whatever means are most sure and certain.” “I shall not quarrel with your means,” the Wanderer said quietly, “provided that there is no unnecessary brutality. If I see anything of the kind I will take the matter into my own hands.” “Certainly, certainly!” said the other, eyeing with curiosity the man who spoke so confidently of taking out of Keyork Arabian’s grasp whatever had once found its way into it. “He shall be treated with every consideration,” the Wanderer continued. “Of course, if he is very violent, we shall have to use force.” “We will take the Individual with us,” said Keyork. “He is very strong. He has a trick of breaking silver florins with his thumbs and fingers which is very pretty.”