unrest, but nothing like this; for in all four parties was an attitude of suspicion of herself, not of each other. She spoke in a low voice to Milo, then raised her hand and advanced toward Caliban.

“Well, whelp of a deformed dog!” she cried. “What do ye seek with me? Is this the way I’ve taught thee to beg?”

“I beg nothing!” screamed Caliban, pacing to and fro restlessly. “We demand, not beg!”

“Demand? Have a care for thy loose tongue!”

“My tongue’s my own! We are tired of thy trumpery state. Tired of thy mystery and falsity. We know thy plot — know thy cunning scheme to carry thy favorites away from here — to carry away the