Such was the tragic web he spun, a compound of fact and fancy. It
explained all perplexities save one. What did "32 divided by 1" mean?
Was there yet another fearsome riddle awaiting solution?

And then his thoughts flew to Iris. Happen what might, her bright
picture was seldom absent from his brain. Suppose, egg-hunting, she had
stumbled across this Valley of Death! How could he hope to keep it
hidden from her? Was not the ghastly knowledge better than the horror
of a chance ramble through the wood and the shock of discovery, nay,
indeed, the risk of a catastrophe?

He was a man who relieved his surcharged feelings with strong
language--a habit of recent acquisition. He indulged in it now and felt
better. He rushed back through the trees until he caught sight of Iris
industriously kneading the sago pith in one of those most useful
dish-covers.

He called to her, led her wondering to the track, and pointed out the
fatal quarry, but in such wise that she could not look inside it.

"You remember that round hole we saw from the summit rock?" he said.
"Well, it is full of carbonic acid gas, to breathe which means
unconsciousness and death. It gives no warning to the inexperienced. It
is rather pleasant than otherwise. Promise me you will never come near
this place again."

Now, Iris, too, had been thinking deeply. Robert Jenks bulked large in
her day-dreams. Her nerves were not yet quite normal. There was a catch
in her throat as she answered--