And this, apparently, was what happened, though not precisely as Mr. Skale had intended, nor with the margin for preparation he had hoped.  It was all so swift and brief and shattering, that to hear Spinrobin tell it makes one think of a mass of fireworks that some stray spark has sent with blazing explosion into the air, to the complete loss of the calculated effect had they gone off seriatim as intended.

And in the awful stress of excitement there can be no question that Spinny acted out of that subconscious region of the mind which considers and weighs deeds before passing them on to the surface mind, translating them into physical expression and thinking itself responsible for the whole operation.  The course he adopted was thus instinctive, and, since he had no time to judge, blameless.

Neither he nor Miriam had any idea really that their minds, subconsciously, were already made up.  Yet only that morning he had been talking with her, skirting round the subject as they always did, ashamed of his doubts about success, and trying to persuade her, and, therefore, himself, that the path of duty lay in following their leader blindly to the very end.

He had seen her on the stairs ahead of him, and had overtaken her quickly.  He drew her down beside him, and they sat like two children perched on the soft-carpeted steps.

“It’s coming, you know,” he said abruptly, “the moment’s getting very close.”

He felt the light shudder that passed through her into himself.  She turned her face to him and he saw the flush of excitement painted in the center of the usually pale cheeks.  He thought of some rare flower, delicately exotic, that had sprung suddenly into blossom from the heart of the bleak December day, out of the very boards whereon they sat.

“We shall then be as gods,” he added, “filled with the huge power of those terrific Letters.  And that is only the beginning.”  In himself he was striving to coax a fading enthusiasm, and to pour it into her.  Her little hand stole into his.  “We shall be a sort of angel together, I suppose.  Just think of it...!” His voice was not as thrilling as it ought to have been, for very human notes vibrated down below in the part he tried to keep back.  He saw the flush fade from her cheeks, and the pallor spread.  “You and I, Miriam—­something tremendous together, greater than any other man and woman in the whole world.  Think of it, dear baby; just think of it...!”

A tiny frown gathered upon her forehead, darkening the grey eyes with shadows.

“But—­lose our Winky!” she said, nestling against his coat, her voice singularly soft, her fingers scratching gently the palm of his hand where they lay.

“Hush, hush!” he answered, kissing her into silence.  “We must have more faith.  I think everything will be all right.  And there is no reason why we should lose our Winky,” he added, very tenderly, smothering the doubt as best he could, “although we may find his name changed.  Like the rest of us, he will get a ‘new name’ I suppose.”