20 
LAND & WATER 
February' i, 1917 
(Continued from fiaqe tfi) 
Patrice had almost entirely uncovered the inscription 
BendiUK low. he pointed with his linger: 
Look. Read the name •. Essares. You can see it down 
there : it was one of the last words my tather wrote. 
^xLe'SJl^rtse higher, a hand lifted it and we saw 
. we saw. laughing as he looked down on us-oh 
the scounarel !— Essar.-s ! . . • Essares t . • • And 
hen he passed something through the opening, something 
that cami down, that unrolled itself m the middle of the room. 
over our heads : a ladder, a rope-ladder. . .. . „^ 
•• We did not understand. It was swinging in front of us 
\nd then, in the end, 1 saw a sheet of paper rolled round the 
button, rung and pinned to it. On the paper, in Essares . 
SiuluMUiig^are the words. ' Send CoreUie up by herse He 
Mv shall be saved. I give her ten minutes to accept. If 
'"-■ \U "'said Patrice, rising from his stooping posture, " will 
th.s'aiM, be repeated ? What about the ladder,__the rope- 
laddfi «liich I found in old Simeon s cupboard .■- 
ulrah- kept her eyes fi.xed on the skylight, f^^r the footsteps 
weVeinoving around it. Then they stopped. Patrice and 
^'rLeiiad not a doubt that the moment '^-l come and t^^ 
they also were about to see their enemy. And Patrice said 
huskilv in a choking voice: 
Who will it be ? Tliere are three men who could have 
..laved tins sinister part as it was played before, /jo are 
dead l-.^sares and mv father. And Simeon, the third, is 
mad K it he. in his madness, who has set the machine work- 
ine a am > But how are we to imagine that he could have 
done k with such precision ? No. no. it is the other one, the 
one who directs him and who till now has remained in tlie 
background." 
He leli Coralie's fingers clutching his arm. 
•■ Hush, she said, " here he is ! " 
" No. no." 
■' Yes. I m sure of it." . , . 
Her imagination had foretold what was preparing , and in 
lact. as once before, the skylight was raised higher. A hand 
Ufted it. And suddenly they saw a head slipping under the 
open framework. 
It was the head of old Simoon. _, 
" Th« madman ! " Patrice whispered, in dismay. ine 
°' " But"perhaps he isn't mad." she said. " He cant be mad." 
She could not check the trembling that shook her. 
The man overhead looked down upon them, hidden behind 
his spectacles, which allowed no expression of satished hatred 
or iov to show on his impassive features. 
•• Coralie, ' said Patrice, in a low voice, do what 1 say. . 
^'^He pushed her gently along, as though he were supporting 
her and leading her to a chair. In reality he had but one 
thought, to reach the table on which he had placed his re- 
volvers, take one of them and fire. 
Simoon remained motionless, Uke some evil genius come 
to unloose the tempest. . . . Corahe could not rid 
herself of that glance which weighed upon her. 
" No ■■ she murmured, resisting Patrice, as though she 
(eared that his intention would precipitate the dreaded 
catastrophe. " No. you mustn't. . . •" _ 
But Patrice, displaying greater determination, was near 
his object. One more eUort and his hand would hold the 
'^Ihc^ quickly made up liis mind, took rapid aim and fir6d a 
ihot. 
The head disappeared from sight. „ . . , „ :ii 
" Oh." said Coralie, " you were wrong. Patnce ! He will 
take his revenge on us. . . ■" , ,. , . 1 
" No perhaps not." said Patrice, still holding his revolver. 
■I may very well have hit him. The bullet struck the 
frame of the skylight. But it may have glanced off, in which 
*^*They waited hand in hand, with a gleam of hope, which 
did not last long, however. . , ,, u f .„ 
The noise on the roof began again. And then, as before— 
and this they reallv had the impression of not seeing for the 
hrst time— as before, something passed through the opening, 
something that came down, that unrolled itself in the middle 
of the room, a ladder, a rope-ladder, the very one which 
Patrice had seen in old Siim'on s cupboard. „ ^. , 
As before they looked at it ; and they knew so well that 
evervthing was being done over again, that the facts were 
inexorably, pitilessly Unked together, they were so certain 
of it that their e es at once sought the sheet of paper which 
mn^t inevitably be pinned to the bottom rung. 
h was therJ. forming a little scroll, dry and discoloured 
, , ,d torn at the edges. It was the sheet of twenty years ago, 
written by Essares and now serving, as before, to convey the 
sime temptation and the same threat: 
" Send Coralie up by herself. Her life shall be saved 
I give her ten minutes to accept. If not. . . • 
i; 
CHAPTER XIII 
The Nails in the Coffin 
F not. ..." . „ 
Patrice repeated the words mechanically, severak 
times over, while their formidable significance becanu 
j»_ apparent to both him and Coralie. The words meant 
that if Coralie did not obey and did not deliver herself to the 
enemy if she did not flee from prison to go with the man who 
held tlie ke\-s of the prison, the alternative was death. 
At that moment, neitiier of them was thinking what end 
was in store for them, nor even of that death itself. They 
thought only of the command to separate winch the enemy 
had issued against them. One was to go and the other to die. 
Corahe was promised her life if she would sacnfice Patnce. 
But what was the price of the promise ? tor what would 
be the form of the sacrifice demanded ? , ■ l 
There was a long silence, full of uncertainty and anguish 
between the two lovers. They were cdming to grips with 
something ; and the drama was no longer taking place abso- 
lutely outside them, without their playing any other part 
than that of helpless victims. It was being enacted withm 
themselves ; and they had the power to alter its ending. 
It was a terrible problem. It had already been set to the 
earlier Coralie ; and she had solved it as a lover would, tor 
she was dead. And now it was being set again. 
Patrice read the inscription, and the rapidly scrawled 
words became less distinct : _ ,. cu 
" I have begged and entreated Corahe. . . . She 
flung herself on her knees before me. She wants to die with 
Patrice looked at Coralie. He had read the words in a very 
low voice ; and she had not heard them. Then, in a burst of 
passion, he drew her eageriy to him and exclaimed : 
" You must go, Coralie ! You can understand that my not 
saying so at once was not due to hesitation. No, only . . 
I was thinking of that man's offer . . . and I am 
frightened for your sake. . . . What he asks, Corahe, 
is terrible. His reason for promising to save your hfe is 
that he loves you. And so you understand. . . . But 
still, Coralie, you must obey . . . you must go on 
living Go ! It is no use waiting for the ten minutes 
to pass " He might change his mind and condemn you to 
death as well.— No, Corahe, you must go, you must go at 
once ! " ,. , • . 
■' I shall stay," she rephed, simply. 
He gave a start : , £ -> 
■' But this is madness ! Why make a useless sacnfice 
Are you afraid of what might happen if you obeyed him ? 
" No." 
" Then go." 
" I shall stay." . , , . 
" But why ? Why this obstinacy .-' It can do no good. 
Then why stay ? " 
" Because I love you, Patnce. , ^ , , . ■ 
He stood dumbfounded. He knew that she loved him 
and he had already told her so. But that she loved liim to 
the extent of preferring to die in his company this was an 
unexpected, exquisite and at the same timeternble delight. 
" And if I ordered you to go, Corahe ? 
" That is to say," she murmured, " if you ordered me to 
go to that man ? Is that wiiat you wish, Patnce ? " 
The thought was too much for him. . 
Neither he nor she pictured the man in the exact image 
of Simoon To both of them, notwithstanding the hideous 
vision perceived above, the enemy retained a mysterious 
character It was perhaps Sim' on. It was perhaps another 
of whom Simron was but the instrument. Assuredly it was 
the enemy, the evil genius crouching above their heads, 
preparin- their death-throes while he pursued Corahe. 
Patrice asked one more question : 
" Did vou ever notice that Simeon sought your company .' 
" No, never. If anything he rather avoided me." 
" Then it's because he's mad. ..." 
" 1 don't think he is mid : he is revenging himself. 
"Impossible. He was my father's friend. All his lite 
long he worked to bring us together : surely he would not 
kill us dehberately ? " , , . j 
" I don't know. Patrice. I don t understand. . . . 
Tiiey discussed it no further. It was of no importance 
whether their death was caused by this one or that one it 
was death itself that they had to fight, without troubling 
who had set it loose. against them. And what could they do 
to ward it olf ? ^ ,■ , 
" You agree, do you not ? " asked Coralie, in a low voice. 
He made no answer. 
{Contintted on page 22) 
