said, still in the same slow, even voice: “Come, Caliban. Thou art worthy of my mercy. Kneel, that I may know thy heart is right.”

Now the suspense reached its climax. Somewhere behind those softly spoken words surely lurked some awful, cunningly cloaked threat. Caliban went white, ghastly; his brave tongue stuck to his palate, and the thin lips slavered with growing panic.

“Come, Caliban!”

The girl’s command was uttered no louder, her expression was unchanged; in her glorious eyes gleamed no trace of anything other than benign forgiveness; she remained motionless as before, with her rounded arm and shapely hand extended in a manner that revealed their every perfection.

“Come, Caliban!”