And with his clear vision, the vision not accustomed to be obscured by detail, the Chief of the American Secret Service saw that the thing could not be prevented. One could interfere with the custody of a guardian only with an established intent in an English court. This intent must be based on evidence, and there would be no evidence; there would not be even the knowledge that the thing was contemplated. With infinite cleverness Dercum had drawn the girl into a conspiracy of silence. They would arrange it; they would keep their own counsels, and they would go. It would have all the secret, alluring charm of a fairy adventure. Walker heard the pledge of silence, and knew that they were coming out. He saw, also, looking down the long hall toward the drawing-room, Lord Donald Muir advancing in his search. He would be here in a moment; the three of them would meet, in a moment, just beyond where he stood behind the chrysanthemums. Already Dercum and the girl were very nearly up to him. What would he do? There was something surely to be done. The world behind its harsh, indifferent machinery must be controlled by some immense considerate impulse. All the operations of life could not be abandoned to a mere physical fatalism, to laws that were unthinking, or to a tendency that could not change. There must be something in the universe to interfere against the iniquity of human intentions and this indifference of nature! And suddenly, with a flash of vision, Walker saw what had happened in Rexford’s snow hut, on the plateau of the Antarctic, during the twenty minutes that Dercum had been there before his expedition had come up—he saw it as clearly as though he had been looking on. He called to Lord Donald Muir, and he advanced to meet Dercum and the girl. “Sir Henry,” he said, “will you release these young people to the dance and walk a moment with me?” Dercum lifted his big Oriental face, looking out under his heavy eyelids. He moved the tips of the girl’s fingers to his lips, and he nodded to Muir. “You will be a very brilliant couple,” he said. “I shall be charmed to observe you.” And then he turned to the Chief of the American Secret Service. “Ah, Walker,” he said, “I have not seen you since the old days in Washington.” The Chief of the American Secret Service put his hand through Dercum’s arm and drew him along beside him, down the hall, with an ease of manner as though he were the warm companion of a lifetime. “My friend,” he said, “I am going to ask you to release this guardianship and go on your expedition alone.” Dercum stopped suddenly, his body rigid. “You have overheard,” he said. Walker smiled. He made a slight gesture. “It is one of the perquisites of the Secret Service,” he said. “You will grant my request, Sir Henry.” “Your request?” Dercum’s voice was almost a stutter. “I grant it?” The Chief of the American Secret Service took a firmer hold of his arm.