"Denver will never forget the Revenge. I held the city to ransom. The officials must find me my own seamen and engineers, provisions, water, yes, and salute your Union Jack, or I swore I'd not leave one man alive in their streets. They did not know I was helpless."
Margaret's eyes were growing moist as she listened, and when she turned away her head lest he should see her—
"Don't turn away," he cried, "I can hardly hear myself speak for this roaring sound in my ears. I've gone stark, staring mad with love, and I can't bear it if you turn away."
"You must not talk like that," said Margaret, and her white hand stole out within his reach. "Go on, sir," she added stiffly, and he went on.
"We found this ship, the Coronation, at Chicago, and the wreck of the Revenge fought a squadron of electric battleships before we captured our prize. With the Coronation I reduced Chicago to terms, then, manned and equipped, set out to find me a fleet. Ship after ship I found in the American cities, captured, manned, provisioned, and drilled them for war. I wonder I ever lived through that delay, knowing that the League had invaded England, that London was besieged, that any moment news might come—that I was too late." He pressed the back of her hand against his lips. "I had command of the air, and nineteen etheric ships of the line when at last I left America. At Lyonesse I embarked ten thousand men, advanced on London, and saw the Royal Standard still floating above the towers of the Palace. I destroyed the Siberian Fleet; didn't you hear the explosion of their battleships, my royal salute to the Flag? And then with a landing party I entered the Palace at last, groping through the smoke and the darkness, trying to find the throne-room, wild with fright lest I should be too late. Oh, say that you love me, Margaret!"
"I am your prisoner," she answered, softly.
"Prisoner of war."
"Prisoner of love," he cried.
"Prisoner of love," she looked into his eyes. "I was such a prisoner long, long ago. What else, do you think, kept me alive, save that I hoped you would come back again. Indeed, I do love you. Go, dear, or I shall cry."
So Brand was sent away knowing that he had conquered all the world, and that the world is the shadow of God, being made of love.