“I shall not betray it,” said Diana, simply.
He smiled.
“I know you will not,” he answered.
With almost a miser’s care he locked the tiny door which concealed the mystery of the fiery-golden liquid dropping so slowly, almost reluctantly, into its crystal receptacle. The sun had sunk below the horizon, and shadows began to creep over the clearness of the dome above them, while the great Wheel turned at a slower pace—and ever more slowly as the light grew dim.
“We will go now,” he said. “One or two ordinary people are coming to dine—and your luggage will have arrived. I want you to live happily here, and healthfully—your health is a most important consideration with me. You look thin and delicate——”
“I am thin—to positive scragginess,” interrupted Diana, “but I am not delicate.”
“Well, that may be; but you must keep strong. You will need all your strength in the days to come.”
They were at the closed door of the laboratory, which by some unseen contrivance, evidently controlled by the pressure of the hand against a particular panel, swung upwards in the same way as it had done before, and when they passed out, slid downwards again behind them. They were in the corridor now, dimly lit by one electric lamp.
“You are not intimidated by anything I have shown you?” said Dimitrius, then. “After all, you are a woman and entitled to ‘nerves!’”
“Quite so,—nerves properly organised and well under control,” answered Diana, quietly. “I am full of wonder at what I have seen, but I am not intimidated.”