He paced a moment, with clenched hands, before speaking:
"You mean to ask me to go back to the Big Three without Anna Erivan—?"
"Yes."
"I cannot.... I cannot!"
"Come to me, and take your father's hand."
Romney sat down in silence. Something flooded over him that broke down all his resistance. He wanted to weep like a young boy who was pressed too hard. Instead, he laughed—his old trick when hard driven.
"I forget that I am powerless," he said bitterly. "Why do you ask my will in the matter? She was taken by force. I do not know where she is. I am in the hands of your men. I must do their will or yours. You say that I have gained great power by this separation, but it had nothing to do with will of mine—"
"You have accepted the destiny imposed—that is enough. It honoured you in being as great as your strength. A weaker man than you would have fallen—"
"But you ask my will now, when I see that yours is greater than mine. My will is to go to Anna Erivan now—to-night! She needs me—"
"Do not speak bitterly, my son. We will abide by your will in this thing—"