might sometime be advisable, in the interests of their joint labours.
And suddenly it had become impossible. It had become utterly
impossible! Why?

The red light in the sky had faded, the sun was now fully risen. Julia
looked out of her window and was dimly conscious of the change. The
heart which had throbbed for the sorrows of others was to thrill now on
its own account. It was something mysterious which had happened to her,
something against which she was later on to fight passionately, which
was creeping like poison through her veins. With her splendid
womanhood, her intense consciousness of life, how was it possible for
her to escape?

There was an impatient tap at the door and Aaron came in. She
recognised him with a little cry of surprise. He was paler than ever
and grim with his night's Vigil. The lines under his eyes were deeper,
his skin seemed sallower. He had the dishevelled look of one who is
still in his attire of the preceding day.

"You have heard?" he exclaimed. "We stayed at the Clarion till three.
Maraton never even sent us a message. Yet they say that he is in
London. They even declare that he was at Downing Street last night."

"I know that he was there," Julia said quietly.

"You know? You? But they were all sure of it."

He dashed his cap into a corner.

"Maraton is our man," he continued passionately. "No one shall rob us