“But the risk—you both spoke of——?” I asked it impatiently, yet it was only a thick whisper that I heard.
There was a little pause before he answered me.
“There are two risks,” he said with utmost gravity in his voice and face. “The descent of such powers may cause a shattering of the one on whom they first arrive—he is the sacrifice. My death—any consequent delay—might thus be the expiation I offer in the act of their release. That is the first, the lesser risk.”
He paused, then added: “But I shall not fail.”
“And—should you——!” My voice had dwindled horribly.
“The Powers, once summoned, would—automatically—seek another channel: the channel for their return—in case I failed. That is the second and the greater risk.”
“Your wife?” The words came out with such difficulty that they were scarcely audible. But Julius heard them.
He shook his head. “For herself there is no danger,” he answered. “My love of to-day, and yours of yesterday protect her. Nor has it anything to do with you,” he added, seeing the touch of fear that flashed from my eyes beyond my power to conceal it. “The Powers, deprived of my control in the case of my collapse beneath the strain, would follow the law of their own beings automatically. They would seek the easiest channel they could find. They would follow the line of least resistance.”
And, realising that it was the other human occupant of the house he meant, I experienced a curious sensation of pity and relief; and with a hint of grandeur in my thought, I knew with what fine pathetic willingness, with what whole-hearted simplicity of devotion, this faithful “younger soul” would offer himself to help in so big a purpose—if he understood.
It was with an appalling shock that I realised my mistake. Julius, watching me closely, divined my instant thought. He made a gesture of dissent. To my complete amazement, I saw him shake his head.