“And while I’m—­over there—­with an ocean between us”—­she broke off and her eyes darkened with terror—­“you may be facing a decisive battle here—­a battle decisive for both of us.  If you have to fight, it’s my right to be near you—­to share your fortunes and your misfortunes.  Our love didn’t begin as little loves do.  It sha’n’t end that way.”

“If I thought—­” his voice was very deep in its earnestness—­“that anything could mean an end of our love, I couldn’t make a fight whether you were here or elsewhere.  I think our love will outlast all battles.  I want you to go.”

“And if I do go,” she demanded with a gaze of questioning which demanded a truthful answer, “will you swear, by whatever is holiest and means most to you, that you will cable me at the first intimation of storm?”

For a while he stood silent and his features were trouble-stamped; then he took both her hands and their eyes met.  Slowly he bowed his assent.  “I swear it,” he told her, “by my love for you, but if I read the signs aright the time is not quite that close at hand.”

In these days Hamilton Burton’s secret service was preternaturally active.  Less of the Titan’s affairs passed through the hands of Carl Bristoll.  He could be implicitly trusted, but called on only for honest service.  More went through Tarring and Ruferton and Hendricks—­who questioned no motives.

After two months Mary returned, and when she met the gaze of Jefferson Edwardes she read in it the struggle which his fight against his heart’s clamorous insistence had cost him.  “I have thought of little else since I went away,” she told him, “and I have decided that either I am worthy to stand with you in whatever comes to you, or I am not worthy to be your wife at all.  Hamilton hurled his threat at us and we, like a pair of timid children, let him frighten us.  In this as in everything else he has had his way and we are paying the price—­giving up our lives.”

“It’s very hard,” he answered, “to stand out against you, when only my mind argues against you and my heart is so insistent on the other side.  You say you have thought of little else.  I have thought of nothing else.  The clocks have chimed it—­the bells have rung it—­the voice of the city has roared and echoed it.  I want you so much, dear, that without you I am starving.  You pledged yourself to me and then came this menace.  I couldn’t let you act blindly.  Now if you are still resolute—­”

“I am more so,” she declared.  “My brother issued his challenge and we accepted it.  Yet we went abjectly away and obeyed him.  If he means to fight he must fight now.  I am no less a Burton than himself and I am tired of submission.”

Jefferson Edwardes smiled.  For the instant everything except her own undaunted courage seemed to shrink into minor consideration.

“You are right,” he said, and he said it with a note of triumph.  “We shall announce our engagement and set a day—­neither hastening it nor delaying it—­but acting precisely as you would act had he never opposed us.  If he thinks he can stop us let him try.”  He paused and his face suddenly hardened as he added, “There have been moments when murder has tempted me—­when I wanted to go to Hamilton Burton and kill him with my hands.”