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After dinner, in the privacy of an inner drawing room, Saul Hartz sought Helen again. It was agony almost for her to be with him, to hear his strange voice clothe yet stranger words; and yet it was a form of experience that no constructive mind would ever willingly forego. She was a woman of strong will, a woman sound in heart and brain, but of a sudden there returned upon her the memory of that night of subtle fear, some two months back, when she had paid a surprise visit to Carlton House Terrace—that unforgettable night of his dealing the man she loved a felon's blow. Not then had she known him for the thing he was. For her, at least, his purpose was still masked. But now everything was clear. The hood had lifted, the veil was rent. He stood forth, open and declared, an enemy of mankind.

The knowledge filled Helen with curious emotion. She now felt the challenge of his nature in a way that frightened her. Beside her sat the very genius of negation. Was not she, too, just a poor silly gnat? The sense of his sheer animal power made her almost long