"You were always true to yourself, and there is no higher creed. Flamby, I have received some papers which Don left with Nevin to be delivered to me. You thought me so mean and lowly, so ignorant and so vainglorious that I could judge a girl worthy of Don's love to be unworthy of my friendship. You were right. No! please don't speak--yet You were right, but you suffered in silence, and you did not hate me. I don't ask you to forgive me, I only thank you very, very sincerely."

Flamby held a handkerchief tightly between her teeth, and stared fixedly at a photograph of one of her propaganda pictures which hung on the wall to the right of the bedroom door.

"There on your bureau," continued Paul, "lies my second book. It contains the key to mysteries which have baffled men since the world began. I do not say it with vanity; vanity is dead within me. I say it with fear, for _I_ did not unravel those mysteries; I did not write that book."

"Oh," whispered Flamby.

"Yes--again you saw clearly, little wonder-girl. Don has told me how you traced the black thread running through the woof of _The Gates_, and that black thread was _truth_. It is truth that slays and truth that d.a.m.ns. Not for a million ages can men be sufficiently advanced to know and to live. Hypocrisy triumphs; for the few is the fruit of knowledge--for the mult.i.tude, the husk. I have seen the Light of the World, but I stand in the shadow. Yet from the bottom of my heart I thank G.o.d that at the price of happiness I have bought escape from a sin more deadly than that which any man has committed. Only by renouncing the world may we win the world. This is the lesson of Golgotha. Behind the curtain of the War move forces of incalculable evil which first found expression in Germany to-day as they found expression there in the Middle Ages. It was in a Rhine monastery that the first Black Ma.s.s was sung. It was in a Rhine town that Lucifer opened his new campaign against mankind; it was in German soil that he planted his seed. Flamby, I tell you that the Hohenzollerns are a haunted race, ruling a haunted land, doomed and cursed. About them are obscene spirits wearing the semblance of men--of men gross and heavy, and leaden-eyed; and upon each brow is the mark of the Bull, the sigil of h.e.l.l."

Flamby watched him, listening spellbound to his strange words. He was inspired; anger and sorrow drove him remorselessly on and a chill finger seemed to touch Flamby's heart as she listened; for resignation and finality informed his speech.

"Each human soul must fight its way out of the night of the valley, Flamby, before it can pa.s.s the gates of dawn. Each error is a step in the path and there are steps right to the top. To me it was given to see but not to understand until this very hour. What I have done it was ordained that I should do; what I was about to do G.o.d forbade." He paused, glancing at Flamby and quickly away again. "Don's letter has opened my eyes, which were blinded. I shall not ask you for what purpose you risked so much to visit the studio of Orlando James. I know. Your fire is laid, Flamby; may I light it?"

"Of course, if you wish."

Paul stooped and held a match to the paper, watching the tongues of flame licking the dry wood; and ere long a small fire was crackling in the grate. He turned to Flamby, pointing to the parcel which lay upon the bureau. "The purpose with which I set out recurs to me," he said. "I have destroyed all the typed copies and every note. It is my wish that _you_ shall destroy the ma.n.u.script."

"Of _The Key_?" she whispered.

"Please."

"But--are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

Flamby met his set gaze and unwrapping the ma.n.u.script she approached the fire. Paul stood aside, resting his elbow upon a corner of the mantelshelf. Flamby's hands were very unsteady.

"Tear out the pages," said Paul, "and throw them loosely on the flames.

They will burn more readily."

Flamby obeyed him, and page by page began to destroy the book containing truths which were known in the sanctuaries of Memphis but which the world was yet too young to understand. Excepting the voice of the flames there was no sound in the room until Flamby had laid the last page upon the pyre, when she sank upon her knees and hid her face in her hands.

Her hair rippled down and veiled her redly.

Paul watched her for a while and then, irresistibly, inevitably, he was drawn down beside her; his arm crept around the bowed shoulders and he pressed his cheek against fragrant curls. "Flamby," he said, "dear little wild-haired Flamby. The sorrow of the world has claimed us both.

Let us both be brave--and true." And although he would have bartered many things once accounted of price for the right to crush her in his arms he rose to his feet again and moved away to the corner of the mantelshelf, for the nearness and the touch of her intoxicated him.

Flamby did not stir. The mound of ashes settled lower in the grate. Paul took up his hat and walked to the door.

"Good night, Flamby," he said. "Wait for me. I shall be waiting for you."

The door closed and Flamby heard footsteps retreating along the gallery.

As the sound became inaudible, a maroon burst dully at no great distance away. Flamby leapt to her feet. Her eyes were wild as she stood there, hands clenched tightly, and listened. A second maroon gave warning of the approaching air raiders. Flamby ran to the door, threw it open and sprang out into the brilliant moonlight as police whistles began to skirl in the distance. The slender chain about her neck parted unaccountably and unperceived by Flamby her locket fell at her feet.

"Paul!" she cried. "Paul! come back--come back!"

But only an echo which dwelt in the arch of the entrance answered her, saying sadly: "Paul ... Paul ..."

Heedless of those who urged him to take cover, of the flat shrieking of whistles and later of the roar of the barrage, Paul walked on under the stars of a perfect night and above him droned the Gotha engines. He prayed silently.

"Master of Destiny, all-Merciful G.o.d, suffer me to die that I may be reborn a wiser and a better man. Of Thine infinite mercy guide the steps of Yvonne who was my wife. Grant her the happiness for which she sought and which I denied her. To those who wait give faith and fort.i.tude: to me, O G.o.d, give death. Amen."

A bomb fell shrieking through the air and burst with a rumbling monstrous peal, digging a pit, a smoking grave, on the spot where Paul had stood. His body was scattered like flock by the wind; his spirit was drawn into the ceaseless Loom.

OM MANI PADME HUM.