She became unconscious the next moment. I knew the mighty grip of that first sleep. It was in truth twin brother to death, for, with my head against her breast, I could discern hardly the slightest stirring. But she lived; all was well. And now the need of saving her came over me. I caught her into my arms—she weighed no more than a small child—and hurried across the bridge. I believed that the outer door upon this lower level communicated with the bridge over the interior court that led to the Airscouts’ Fortress. I traversed the little room and pushed the swing door open. Before me was an elevator shaft, evidently that up which I had made my first journey to Lembken’s palace. But as I emerged into the corridor I saw, not ten paces away, their backs toward me, two of the Guard. I was too late. The Guard had occupied the posts vacated by the airscouts. The Temple and all the approaches to Lembken’s palace were in Sanson’s hands. They had not seen or heard me, and in a moment I had withdrawn within the little room. There still remained one chance. By crossing the bridge again and passing through the priests’ robing-room on the other side of the Temple, I could reach all parts of the buildings. Perhaps there were no sentries in the gallery above the auditorium. I knew how vain the hope was, but there was none other. I carried Esther upon the bridge again. As I was about to set foot upon the altar-stone, which still rocked slightly, I fancied that the bridges themselves were moving. I leaped on the stone, stumbling against the grille. One moment I hesitated, to assure myself that Esther still breathed. A piece of her brown dress had come away and broke like burned paper in my hand. I raised her higher in my arms, so that her head rested against my shoulder, and opened the grille gate to step upon the farther span. That moment of delay had ended all my hopes. There was no second span. For swiftly, noiselessly, the span was swinging away from me, pivoting upon its further end. It was already too far away for me to make the leap, encumbered as I was with Esther. I glanced backward in horror. The span that I had crossed was moving also, acting in unison. They vanished in the gloom at the sides of the Temple. I stood with Esther in my arms upon the altar-slab, poised on that unsteady resting place high in the Temple void. There was no refuge anywhere. Over me was the vault; far underneath the Ant with its gleaming, upraised tentacle. As I stood there the little solar light went out. CHAPTER XXIII THE HEART OF THE PEOPLE