“The cruellest lies are often told in silence,” he read—­the very letters of the words seemed to scorch his eyes with prophetic fires.  “A man may have sat in a room for hours and not opened his teeth and yet come out of that room a disloyal friend or a vile calumniator.  And how many loves have perished, because from—­”

Banneker sprang from his bed, shaking.  He dressed himself, consulted his watch, wrote a brief, urgent line to Io, after ’phoning for a taxi; carried it to the station himself, assured, though only by a few minutes’ margin, of getting it into the latest Western mail, returned to bed and slept heavily and dreamlessly....  Not over the bodies of a loved friend and an honored foe would Errol Banneker climb to a place of safety for Io and triumph for himself.

Mail takes four days to reach Manzanita from New York.

Through the hot months The House With Three Eyes had kept its hospitable orbs darkened of Saturday nights.  Therefore, Banneker was free to spend his week-ends at The Retreat, and his Friday and Saturday mail were forwarded to the nearest country post-office, whither he sent for it, or picked it up on his way back to town.  It was on Saturday evening that he received the letter from Io, saying that she had written to Willis Enderby to come on to Manzanita and let the eyes, for which he had filled life’s whole horizon since first they met his, look on him once more before darkness shut down on them forever.  Her letter had crossed Banneker’s.

“I know that he will come,” she wrote.  “He must come.  It would be too cruel ... and I know his heart.”

Eight-thirty-six in the evening!  And Io’s letter to Enderby must have reached him in New York that morning.  He would be taking the fast train for the West leaving at eleven.  Banneker sent in a call on the long-distance ’phone for Judge Enderby’s house.  The twelve-minute wait was interminable to his grilling impatience.  At length the placid tones of Judge Enderby’s man responded.  Yes; the Judge was there.  No; he couldn’t be disturbed on any account; very much occupied.

“This is Mr. Banneker.  I must speak to him for just a moment.  It’s vital.”

“Very sorry, sir,” responded the unmoved voice.  “But Judge Enderby’s orders was absloot.  Not to be disturbed on any account.”

“Tell him that Mr. Banneker has something of the utmost importance to say to him before he leaves.”

“Sorry, sir.  It’d be as much as my place is worth.”

Raging, Banneker nevertheless managed to control himself.  “He is leaving on a trip to-night, is he not?”

After some hesitation the voice replied austerely:  “I believe he is, sir.  Good-bye.”