great thing which I shall do tomorrow must be witnessed by you
because thereby only can you come to understand my powers. Also

yonder where I bring it about in the bowels of the earth, you
will be safer than elsewhere, since when and perhaps before it

happens, the whole world will heave and shake and tremble, and I
know not what may chance, even in these caves. For this reason

also, do not forget to bring the little hound with you, since him
least of all of you would I see come to harm, perhaps because

once, hundreds of generations ago as you reckon time, I had a dog
very like to him. Your mother loved him much, Yva, and when she

died, this dog died also. He lies embalmed with her on her coffin
yonder in the temple, and yesterday I went to look at both of

them. The beasts are wonderfully alike, which shows the
everlastingness of blood."

He paused a while, lost in thought, then continued: "After the
deed is done I'll speak with you and you shall choose, Strangers,

whether you will die your own masters, or live on to serve me.
Now there is one problem that is left to me to solve--whether I

can save a certain land--do not ask which it is, Humphrey, though
I see the question in your eyes--or must let it go with the rest.

I only answer you that I will do my best because you love it. So
farewell for a while, and, Preacher, be advised by me and do not

aim too high again."
"It doesn't matter where I aim," answered Bastin sturdily, "or

whether I hit or miss, since there is something much bigger than
me waiting to deal with you. The countries that you think you are

going to destroy will sleep quite as well tomorrow as they do
tonight, Oro."

"Much better, I think, Preacher, since by then they will have
left sorrow and pain and wickedness and war far behind them."

"Where are we to go?" I asked.
"The Lady Yva will show you," he answered, waving his hand, and

once more bent over his endless calculations.
Yva beckoned to us and we turned and followed her down the

hall. She led us to a street near the gateway of the temple and
thence into one of the houses. There was a portico to it leading

to a court out of which opened rooms somewhat in the Pompeian
fashion. We did not enter the rooms, for at the end of the court

were a metal table and three couches also of metal, on which were
spread rich-looking rugs. Whence these came I do not know and

never asked, but I remember that they were very beautiful and
soft as velvet.

"Here you may sleep," she said, "if sleep you can, and eat of
the food that you have brought with you. Tomorrow early I will

call you when it is time for us to start upon our journey into
the bowels of the earth."

"I don't want to go any deeper than we are," said Bastin
doubtfully.

"I think that none of us want to go, Bastin," she answered with
a sigh. "Yet go we must. I pray of you, anger the Lord Oro no

more on this or any other matter. In your folly you tried to kill
him, and as it chanced he bore it well because he loves courage.

But another time he may strike back, and then, Bastin--"
"I am not afraid of him," he answered, "but I do not like

tunnels. Still, perhaps it would be better to accompany you than
to be left in this place alone. Now I will unpack the food."

Yva turned to go.
"I must leave you," she said, "since my father needs my help.

The matter has to do with the Force that he would let loose
tomorrow, and its measurements; also with the preparation of the

robes that we must wear lest it should harm us in its leap."
Something in her eyes told me that she wished me to follow her,

and I did so. Outside the portico where we stood in the desolate,
lighted street, she halted.

"If you are not afraid," she said, "meet me at midnight by the
statue of Fate in the great temple, for I would speak with you,

Humphrey, where, if anywhere, we may be alone."
"I will come, Yva."

"You know the road, and the gates are open, Humphrey."
Then she gave me her hand to kiss and glided away. I returned

to the others and we ate, somewhat sparingly, for we wished to
save our food in case of need, and having drunk of the Life-

water, were not hungry. Also we talked a little, but by common
consent avoided the subject of the morrow and what it might bring

forth.
We knew that terrible things were afoot, but lacking any

knowledge of what these might be, thought it useless to discuss
them. Indeed we were too depressed, so much so that even Bastin

and Bickley ceased from arguing. The latter was so overcome by
the exhibition of Oro's powers when he caused the pistol to leap

into the air and discharge itself, that he could not even pluck
up courage to laugh at the failure of Bastin's efforts to do

justice on the old Super-man, or rather to prevent him from
attempting a colossal crime.

At length we lay down on the couches to rest, Bastin remarking
that he wished he could turn off the light, also that he did not

in the least regret having tried to kill Oro. Sleep seemed to
come to the others quickly, but I could only doze, to wake up

from time to time. Of this I was not sorry, since whenever I
dropped off dreams seemed to pursue me. For the most part they

were of my dead wife. She appeared to be trying to console me for
some loss, but the strange thing was that sometimes she spoke

with her own voice and sometimes with Yva's, and sometimes looked
at me with her own eyes and sometimes with those of Yva. I

remember nothing else about these dreams, which were very
confused.

After one of them, the most vivid of all, I awoke and looked at
my watch. It was half-past eleven, almost time for me to be

starting. The other two seemed to be fast asleep. Presently I
rose and crept down the court without waking them. Outside the

portico, which by the way was a curious example of the survival
of custom in architecture, since none was needed in that

weatherless place, I turned to the right and followed the wide
street to the templeenclosure. Through the pillared courts I

went, my footsteps, although I walked as softly as I could,
echoing loudly in that intense silence, through the great doors

into the utter solitude of the vast and perfect fane.
Words can not tell the loneliness of that place. It flowed over

me like a sea and seemed to swallow up my being, so that even the
wildest and most dangerous beast would have been welcome as a

companion. I was as terrified as a child that wakes to find
itself deserted in the dark. Also an uncanny sense of terrors to

come oppressed me, till I could have cried aloud if only to hear
the sound of a mortal voice. Yonder was the grim statue of Fate,

the Oracle of the Kings of the Sons of Wisdom, which was believed
to bow its stony head in answer to their prayers. I ran to it,

eager for its terrible shelter, for on either side of it were
figures of human beings. Even their cold marble was company of a

sort, though alas! over all frowned Fate.
Let anyone imagine himself standing alone beneath the dome of

St. Paul's; in the centre of that cathedralbrilliant with
mysterious light, and stretched all about it a London that had

been dead and absolutely unpeopled for tens of thousands of
years. If he can do this he will gather some idea of my physical

state. Let him add to his mind-picture a knowledge that on the
following day something was to happen not unlike the end of the

world, as prognosticated by the Book of Revelation and by most