“Creative!” fell from the little man on the sofa, aghast at the possibility.  Yet the one burning question that lay trembling just behind his lips dared not frame itself in words, for there was something in Mr. Skale’s face and manner that rendered the asking of it not yet possible.  The revelation of the name must wait.

“Even singly, as you saw, their power is terrific,” he went on, ignoring the pathetic interruption, “but united—­as we shall unite them while each of us utters his letter and summons forth the entire syllable by means of the chord—­they will constitute a Word of Power which shall make us as Gods if uttered correctly; if incorrectly, shall pour from this house to consume and alter the surface of the entire world with the destructive tempest due to mispronunciation and a lie.”

Miriam nestled closer into her companion’s side.  There was otherwise no sign outwardly of the emotions that surged through the two little figures upon the sofa.

“And now—­now that you have this first syllable complete?” faltered a high and sharing tenor voice.

“We must transfer it to a home where it shall wait in silence and in safety until we have also captured the other remaining three.”  Skale came forward and lowered his mouth to his companions’ ears.  “We shall transfer it, as you now understand, by chanting the four letters.  Our living chord will summon forth that first syllable into visible form and shape.  Our four voices, thus trained and purified, each singing a mighty letter, shall create the astounding pattern of the name’s first syllable—­”

“But the home,” stammered Spinrobin; “this home where it shall await the rest?”

“My rooms,” was the reply, “can contain letters only, for a whole syllable I need a larger space.  In the crypt-like cellars beneath this house I have the necessary space all ready and prepared to hold this first syllable while we work upon the second.  Come, and you shall see!”

They crossed the hall and went down the long stone passage beyond the dining room till they reached a swinging baize door, and so came to the dark stairs that plunged below ground.  Skale strode first, Spinrobin following with beating heart; he held Miriam by the hand; his steps, though firm enough, made him think of his efforts as a boy when treading water for solid ground out of his depth.

V

Cold air met them, yet it was neither dank nor unpleasant as air usually is that has never tasted sunlight.  There was a touch of vitality about it wholly remarkable.  Miriam pressed closer.  Every detail, every little incident that brought them nearer to the climax was now interpreted by these two loving children as something that might eventually spell for them separation.  Yet neither referred to it directly.  The pain of the ultimate choice possessed them deep within.

“Here,” exclaimed the clergyman in a hushed tone that yet woke echoes on all sides, while he lit a candle and held it aloft, “you see the cellar vaults all ready for the first great syllable when our chord shall bring it leaping down from the rooms upstairs.  Here will reside the pattern of the name’s opening syllable till we shall have accomplished the construction of the others.”