phase of the Queen’s thought and reasoning and action.  The logical result is that the seventh hour after sunset was the time fixed on.  This is borne out by the fact that on each of the occasions when action was taken in my house, this was the time chosen.  As the sun sets tonight in Cornwall at eight, our hour is to be three in the morning!” He spoke in a matter-of-fact way, though with great gravity; but there was nothing of mystery in his word or manner.  Still, we were all impressed to a remarkable degree.  I could see this in the other men by the pallor that came on some of their faces, and by the stillness and unquestioning silence with which the decision was received.  The only one who remained in any way at ease was Margaret, who had lapsed into one of her moods of abstraction, but who seemed to wake up to a note of gladness.  Her father, who was watching her intently, smiled; her mood was to him a direct confirmation of his theory.

For myself I was almost overcome.  The definite fixing of the hour seemed like the voice of Doom.  When I think of it now, I can realise how a condemned man feels at his sentence, or at the sounding of the last hour he is to hear.

There could be no going back now!  We were in the hands of God!

The hands of God . . . !  And yet . . . !  What other forces were arrayed? . . .  What would become of us all, poor atoms of earthly dust whirled in the wind which cometh whence and goeth whither no man may know.  It was not for myself . . .  Margaret . . . !

I was recalled by Mr. Trelawny’s firm voice: 

“Now we shall see to the lamps and finish our preparations.”  Accordingly we set to work, and under his supervision made ready the Egyptian lamps, seeing that they were well filled with the cedar oil, and that the wicks were adjusted and in good order.  We lighted and tested them one by one, and left them ready so that they would light at once and evenly.  When this was done we had a general look round; and fixed all in readiness for our work at night.

All this had taken time, and we were I think all surprised when as we emerged from the cave we heard the great clock in the hall chime four.

We had a late lunch, a thing possible without trouble in the present state of our commissariat arrangements.  After it, by Mr. Trelawny’s advice, we separated; each to prepare in our own way for the strain of the coming night.  Margaret looked pale and somewhat overwrought, so I advised her to lie down and try to sleep.  She promised that she would.  The abstraction which had been upon her fitfully all day lifted for the time; with all her old sweetness and loving delicacy she kissed me good-bye for the present!  With the sense of happiness which this gave me I went out for a walk on the cliffs.  I did not want to think; and I had an instinctive feeling that fresh air and God’s sunlight, and the myriad beauties of the works of His hand would be the best preparation of fortitude for what was to come.