them tales of the upheaval in St. Petersburg, Moscow, and

Corpang smiled sweetly, but said nothing.

"I care nothing for my Own affairs any more. How can I help you?"

"So much the better for you, Maskull, if you respond so quickly to the invisible worlds."

As soon as he had spoken, the figure began to vanish, and the light to die away from the landscape. Maskull's emotion slowly subsided, but it was not until he was once more in complete darkness that he became master of himself again. Then he felt ashamed of his boyish exhibition of enthusiasm, and thought ruefully that there must be something wanting in his character. He got up onto his feet.

The very moment that he arose, a man's voice sounded, not a yard from his ear. It was hardly raised above a whisper, but he could distinguish that it was not Corpang's. As he listened he was unable to prevent himself from physically trembling.

"Maskull, you are to die," said the unseen speaker.

"You have only a few hours of life left. Don't trifle the time away."

Maskull could bring nothing out.