CHAPTER I As well give up the Bible at once, as our belief in apparitions. Wesley. The house cried out to me for help. In the after-knowledge I now possess of what was to happen there, that impression is not more clearly definite than it was at my first sight of the place. Let me at once set down that this is not the story of a haunted house. It is, or was, a beleaguered house. Only besieged as was Prague in the old legend when a midnight army of specters unfurled pale banners and encamped around the city walls. Of course I did not know all this, the day that my real estate agent brought me his little car to a stop before the dilapidated farm. I believed the house only appealed to be lived in, for deliverance from the destroying work of neglect and time. A spring rain was whispering down from a gray sky, dripping from broken gutters and eaves with a patter like timid footsteps hurrying by. Yet even in the storm the house did not look dreary. There, Mr. Locke, is a bargain, the agent called back to me, where I sat in my car. Finest bid in Connecticut for a city-man summer home. Woodland, farmland, lake, and a house that only needs a few repairs to be up to date. Look at that double row of maples, sir. Shade all summer. Fine old orchard, too, with a trifle of attention. I nodded, surveying the house with an eagerness of interest that surprised myself.  It wooed me like a determined woman. And as one would long to clothe beautifully a beloved woman, I looked at the house and foresaw what an architect could do for it, how creamy stucco, broad white porches, and a gay scarlet roof would transform it. Come inside, my agent urged, hope in his voice as he observed my face. Let me show you the interior. I brought the keys along. Of course the rooms may seem a bit musty, no one has lived in it for some time. It's the old Mitchell property, been in the family for a couple of hundred years. Last Mitchell is dead now, and it's being sold for the benefit of some religious institute the old gentleman left it to. People wet to walk over the land today, but I have a plan and measurements in my portfolio. I said that we would go in. If he had but known the fact, the place was already sold to me before I left my car, before I entered the house, before I had seen the hundred odd acres that make up the estate. There was a narrow, flagged path to the veranda where the planking moved and creaked under our weight while my companion unlocked the front door. Rather astonishingly the air of the long closed place was neither musty nor damp when we stepped in. Instead there was a faint resinous odor, very pleasant and clean, perhaps from the cedar of which the woodwork largely consisted. The house was partially furnished, not, of course, with much what I would care to retain, but a few good antiques stood out among their common-place associates. A large bedroom on the north side, which I appointed as my own at first sight, held an old rosewood set including a four-posted, pineapple-carved bed. I threw open the shutters in this room and looked out. I received the first jar to my satisfaction. On this side of the place the grounds ran down a slight slope for perhaps half a block to the five-acre hollow of shallow water and lush growth which the agent called a lake. From it flowed a considerable creek, winding behind the house and away on its journey to the sound. For that underwater marsh I felt a shock of violent dislike. You don't care for the lake, my companion duplicated at my elbow? Find trout in that stream, though. I'd like you to see it in the sunshine. I should care more for it if it was a lake, not a swamp," I answered. Oh, but that is only because the old dam is down, he exclaimed eagerly. That lets all the water out, you see. Why, if the dam were put back, you'd have as pretty a lake for a canoe as there is in the state. Its natural depth is four or five feet all over, and about eight or ten where the stream flows through to the dam. Even yet a few wild ducks stop there spring and fall, and when I was a boy I've seen heron. Put back the dam, Mr. Locke, and I'll guarantee you'll never say swamp again. We will try it," I said. Now let us find a lawyer and see how quickly I can be put in possession. We drove back to the little town from which we had that morning started out, and where my agent lived, my sleek car following his small one with somewhat the effect of a long-limbed panther striding behind an agitated mouse. It appeared that the sale was simply consummated. I do not mean that all the formalities were completed in a day, but by nightfall I could feel myself the owner of the place. Perhaps it was the giddiness of being a landowner for the first time, or perhaps it was the abject wretchedness of the only hotel in town that inspired the whim which seized me during my solitary dinner. I had spent one night here and did not welcome the prospect of a second. A return to New York was not practicable because I had arranged to meet several contractors and an architect at the farm next morning to discuss the alterations I wanted made. Why not drive out to my new house this evening and sleep tonight in the Rosewood furnished bedroom? The idea gained favour as I contemplated it. I could go over the house to-night and sketch more clearly what I wanted done while I would be on the ground when my men arrived next morning. There was an allure of camping out about it too. In the end I went, of course. It was dark when I stabled my roadster in the barn that was part of my new possessions, where the car seemed to glitter disdain of the hay-littered ragged shelter. Equipped with a flashlight, suitcase, and bundle, I followed a faint path that wound its way to the house through wet blackberry vines whose thorns had outlived the winter. My steps broke the blank silence that brooded over the place. At this season there was no insect life nor any other stirring thing within hearing or sight. But just as I stepped upon the veranda I heard a vague sound from the lake that lay a few hundred feet to the north. There was no wind, yet the water had seemed to move with a sound like the smacking of soft, glutinous lips. Or as if some soft body drew itself from a bed of clinging mud. I wondered idly if the tide could run this far back from Long Island Sound. The house reiterated the impression of welcoming me. I shut and locked the old door behind me and went up to the room I had chosen as my own. There I unshuttered and opened the windows, lighted one of the candles I had brought and sat in on a little bookcase filled with dingy volumes, and threw my blankets on the bed. I had moved in. My pleasant sense of proprietorship continued to grow. Before I thought of sleep I had been through the house several times from cellar to attic and accumulated a list of things to be done. Back in my room an hour passed in revising the list by candlelight. Near ten o'clock I rolled myself in a dressing gown and my blankets, hid an automobile robe over the four-posted bed, and fell asleep. Beware of her fair hair, for she excels all women in the magic of her locks. Shelly translated. It trailed suavely through my fingers, slipping across my palm like a belt of silk. It glided with the noiseless haste of a thing in flight. Quite naturally, even in the dazed moment of awakening, I closed my hand upon it. It was soft in my grasp, yet resilient, solid, yet supple. If I may speak irrationally, it felt as if it must be fragrant. It was a strange visitor to my experience, yet I recognized its identity unerringly as a blind man gaining sight might identify a flower or a bird. In brief it was, it only could be, an opulent braid of hair. When I grasped it, it ceased to move. In the dense darkness of my bedroom I lay still and considered. I was alone, or rather should have been alone in the old house I had bought the day before. The agent assured me that it had been unoccupied for years. Who then was my guest? A passer-by seeking refuge in a supposedly deserted house would hardly have moved about with such silent caution. A tramp of this genus would be a rarity indeed. I had nothing with me of value to attract a thief. The usual limited masculine jewellery, a watch, a pair of cufflinks, a modest pin, surely were not sufficiently tempting to snare so dainty a bird of prey as one wearing such plumage as I held. I have not a small fist, yet that braid was a generous handful. How did it come to trail across my bed, in any case? And why was its owner locked in silence and immobility? Surely startled innocence would have cried out, questioned my grasp or struggled against it. My captive did neither. I began to paint a picture against the darkness. The picture of a crouching woman, fear paralyzed, not daring to stir, to sob, or pant or shiver lest she betray herself, or perhaps a woman who is not hushed by panic but by deliberation. A woman who slowly leveled a weapon, assuring her aim in the blank darkness by such guides as my breathing and the taut direction of her imprisoned tresses. An ugly woman could not have hair such as this, or could she? I had a doubtful recollection of various long-haired demonstrators glimpsed in drug-shop windows who were not beautiful. Yes, but they would never have found themselves in such a situation as this one. Only resolve or recklessness could bring a woman to such a pass, and with spirit and this hair no woman could be ugly. How quiet she was! I suddenly reflected that she must be thinking the same thing of me, since neither of us had moved during a considerable space of time. Possibly she fancied me only half aroused, and hoped that I would relapse into sleep without realizing upon what my drowsy grasp had closed. No doubt it would have been the course of chivalry for me to pretend to do so, but it was not the course of curiosity. The deadlock could not last indefinitely. Apparently, though, it must be I who should break it. As quietly as possible I brought my left hand forward to grope along that silken line which certainly must guide me to the intruder herself. My hand slipped along the smooth surface to the full reach of my arm, and encountered nothing. Check for the first attempt. The candle and matches I had bought in the village were also beyond my reach, unless I released my captive and rolled across the bed toward the little bookcase where I had placed them beside the flashlight. If I should speak, what would she do? And a new thought, was she alone in the house? There came a gentle draw at the braid, instantly ceasing as I automatically tightened my hold. The pretense that I slapped was ended. I spoke as soothingly and kindly as I could manage. If you will let me strike a light, we can explain to each other. Or if you will agree not to escape? In spite of my efforts, my voice boomed startlingly through the dark still room. No reply followed, but the braid quivered and suddenly relaxed from its tension. She must have come closer to me. Delighted by so much success attained and intrigued by the novelty of the adventure, I moved slightly, stretching my free arm in the direction of the flashlight. I am not a difficult person. I assayed encouragement. Nor too dull, I hope, to understand a mistake or a necessity. Nor am I affiliated with the police. Permit me, I halted abruptly. A cool edge of metal had been laid across the wrist of my groping hand. As the hand came to rest, palm uppermost, I could feel, or imagined I could feel, my pulse beating steadily against the menacing pressure of the blade. The warning was eloquent and sufficient. I moved no further toward my flashlight. Of course, if I had lifted my right hand from its guard of the braid, I could easily have pinioned the arm which poised the knife before I suffered much harm. But I might have lost my captive in the attempt, an event for which I was not ready yet. Check, I admitted. Although it is rather near a stalemate for us both, isn't it? The knife pressed closer, suggestively. No, I dissented with the mute argument. I think not. I do not believe you could do it, not in cold blood, anyway. You do not know," insisted the closer pressing blade, as if with a tongue. No, I do not know, I translated aloud. But I am confident enough to chance it. What reason have you for desperate action? I would not harm you. Have I not a right to curiosity? This is my house, you know, or perhaps you did not know that? A sigh stirred the silence, blending with the ceaseless whisper of the rain that it had recommended through the night. The braid did not move in my right hand, nor did the blade touching my left. Speak, I begged, with an abrupt urgency that surprised myself. You are the invader. Why? What would you have for me? If I am to let you go, at least speak to me first. This is uncanny. There is magic in the third time of asking. Came a breathed, just audible whisper. Yet be warned. Call not to you that which you may neither hold nor forbid. But I do call, if that will make you speak to me, I returned, my pulses tingling triumph. Though as to not holding you, you fancy you hold me? It is not you who are master of this moment, but I who am its mistress. Her voice had gained in strength. A soft voice, yet not weak, used with a delicate deliberation that gave her speech the effect of being a caprice of her own, rather than a result of my compulsion. Yet I thought she must be crouched or kneeling beside me on the floor, held like the lady of the beautiful tresses. Still, I doubt if you have the disposition to use your advantage, I began. You mean the cruelty, she corrected me. I am from New York, I smiled. Let me say the nerve. If you pressed that knife I might bleed to death, you know.  Tell me, I consented, and smiled in the darkness at the transparent plan to distract my attention from that imprisoned braid. She was silent for so long that I fancied the plan abandoned, perhaps for lack of a tale to tell. Then her voice leaped suddenly out of the blackness that closed us in, speaking always in muted tones, but with a strange, impassioned urgency and force that startled like a cry. The words hurried upon one another like breaking surf. See? See? The fire leaps in the chimney. It breathes sparks like a dreadful beast. It is hungry. Its red tongues lick for that which they may not yet have. Already its breath is hot upon the wax image on the hearth. But the image is round of limb and sound. Yes, though it is but toy large, it is perfect and firm. See how it stands in the red shine? The image of a man cunningly made to show his stalwartness and strength and bravery of velvet and lace. The image of a great man, surely, one high in place and power, one above fear and beyond the reach of hate. The woman sits in her low chair behind the image.  On either side her hair flows down to the floor. Her eyes look on the image and are dreadfully glad. Ha! Was not beauty the lure? And shall it not be the vengeance? The nine lamps have been lighted. The feathers have been laid in a circle. The spell has been broken. The spell of high, son of set, first man to slay man by the dark art. The man is at the door of the woman's house. Yes, he who came in pride to woo and proved traitor to the love won. He is at her door in weakness and pain. As the wax wastes, the man wastes. As the mannequin is gone, the man dies. On her doorstep he begs for life. He is cowered and broken. He suffers and is consumed. He calls to her the love names they both know. And the woman laughs, and the door is barred. The door is barred, but what shall bar out the enemy who creeps to the nine lamps? See, the fire shines through the wax. The image is grown thin and won. Three days, three nights it is shrunk before the flames. Three days, three nights the woman has watched. As the fire is not weary, she is not weary. As the fire is beautiful, she is beautiful. The man is born to her door again. He lifts up his hands and cries to her. But now he begs for death. Now he knows anguish stronger than fear. And the woman laughs, and the door is barred. The fire shines on a lump of wax. The man is dead. From her chair the woman has arisen and stands triumphant. But what crouch is behind her unseen? The lamps are cast down. The pentagram is crossed. The horror takes its own. The impassioned speech broke off with the effect of a snapped bar of thin metal. In the silence the steady whisper of rain came to my ears again, continuing patiently. I became aware of a rich yet delicate fragrance in the air that I breathed. It was not any perfume I could identify, either as a composition or as a flower scent. If I may hope to be understood it sparkled upon the senses. It produced a thirst for itself, so that the nostrils expanded for it with an eagerness for the new pleasure. I found myself breathing deeply, almost greedily, before answering my prisoner's story. Sister Helen, I quoted as lightly as I could, and do you think Rosetti had no truth to base his poem upon? Her quiet voice flowed out of the darkness, seeming scarcely the same speech as the swift, irregular utterance of a moment before. Do you think that all the traditions and learning of the younger world meant nothing? Are you asking me to believe in witchcraft and sorcery? I ask nothing. Not even to believe that you will press the knife if I refuse to free you? Not even that, now, compunction smote me. Her voice sounded more faint as if from fatigue or discouragement. It seemed to me that the blade against my wrist had relaxed its menace of pressure, and just rested in position. I seemed to read my lady's weariness in the slackened vigilance. Perhaps she was really frightened, now that her brave attempt to lull me into incaution had failed. Listen, please, I spoke earnestly. I am going to set you free. I apologize for keeping you captive so long. But you will admit the provocation to my curiosity. You will forgive me? A sigh drifted across the darkness. I asked no questions, I urged. But will you not trust me to make a light and give what help I can? You are welcome to use the house as you please.  Let us not spoil our adventure by suspicion. In good faith I opened my hand, releasing the lovely rope by which I had detained my prisoner. Then, with a quickening pulse, I waited. Would she stay? Would she spring up and escape? Would she thank me, or would she reply with some eccentricity unpredictable as her whim to tell me that tale? She did none of these things. The braid of hair, freed entirely, continued to lie supinely across my open palm. The coolness of the blade still lightly touched my wrist. She might be debating her course of action, I reflected. Well, I was in no haste to conclude the episode. When the silence had lasted many moments, however, I began to grow restive. Anxiety tinged my speculations. Suppose she had fainted. Or did she doubt my intentions, and was her quietness that of one on guard? I stirred tentatively. Two things happened simultaneously with my movement. The braid glided away from me, while the knife slipped from its position and tinkled upon the floor. I started up, perception of the truth seizing my slow wits, and reached for my flashlight. There was no one in the room except myself. Down my blanket was slipping a severed braid of hair, perhaps a foot in length, jaggedly cut across at the end farthest from my hand. Leaning over, I saw on the floor beside the bed a paper knife of my own, a sharp, serviceable tool that formed part of my writing kit. Before going to bed, I had taken it from my suitcase to trim a candle-wick, and had left it upon the book stand. Now I understood why her voice had sounded more distant than seemed reasonable while I held her beside me. No doubt she had hacked off the detaining braid almost as soon as I grasped it. The knife she had pressed against my wrist was to keep me where I lay, while she made ready for flight, or amused herself with me. Flight? Say rather that she had leisurely withdrawn. Perhaps she had not even heard my magnanimous speech offering her the freedom that she already possessed. If she had stayed to hear me, probably she had laughed. Perhaps she was still in the house. I rose and lighted a candle under the impulsion of that idea, reserving my flashlight for the search. But there was no one in any of the dusty, sparsely furnished rooms and halls through which I hunted. The ancient locks on doors and windows were fastened as I had left them, although my lady certainly had entered and left at her pleasure. Puzzled and amused I finally returned to my bed-chamber. There was some difference in that room. I was conscious of the fact as soon as I entered and closed the door behind me. The candle still burned where I had left it, flickering slightly in some current of air. There was no change that the eye could find, no sound except the rain, yet I felt an extreme reluctance to go on even a step from where I stood. What I wanted to do was to tear open the door behind me, to rush out into the hall, and slam the door shut between this room and to myself. Why? I looked around me, sending the beam of the flashlight playing over the quiet place. Nothing, of course. I walked over to the bookcase, took up the braid I had left there, and sat down in an old armchair to study my trophy. On principle and by habit, I had no intention of being mastered by nerves. It was humiliating to discover that I could be made nervous by the mere fact of being in an unoccupied farmhouse after midnight. The braid was magnificent. It was as broad as my palm, yet compressed so tightly that it was thick and solid to the touch. If released over some one's shoulders, it would have been a sumptuous cloak indeed. In what madness of panic had the girls sacrificed this beauty? How she must hate me! Now the panic was past. The color, too, was unique in my experience, a gold as vivid as auburn, or was a-tinged with auburn. As I leaned forward to catch the candle-light, a drift of that fragrance worn by my visitor floated from her braid. At once I knew what had changed in the room. The air that had been so pure when the house was opened now was heavy with an order of damp and mould that had seeped into the atmosphere as moisture will seep through cellar walls. One would have said that the door of some hideous vault had been opened into my bed-chamber. This stench struggled, as it were, with the volatile perfume that clung about the braid, so that my senses were thrust back and forth between disgust and delight in the strangest wavering of sensation. I made the strongest effort to put away the effect this wavering had upon me. I forced myself to sit still and think of normal things, of the men whom I was to see next morning, of the plans I meant to discuss with them. Useless. The stench was making me ill. A wave of giddiness swept over me and passed. My heart was beating slowly and heavily. Something in my head pulsed in unison. I felt a frightful depression that suddenly burst into an attack of fear gripping me like hysteria. I wanted to shriek aloud like a woman, to cover my eyes and run blindly. But at the same time my muscles failed me. Will and strength were arrested like frozen water. As I sat there facing the door of the room, I became aware of something at the window behind my back. Something that pressed against the open window and stared at me with the hideous covetousness beside which the greed of a beast for its prey is a natural, innocent appetite.  And I understood how a man may die of horror. Yet presently I turned around. Weak and sick, with dragging effort, I turned in my chair and faced the blank, uncurtained window where I felt it to be. Nothing was there to sight or hearing. I sat still and combatted that which I knew was there. In the profound stillness I heard the wind stir the naked branches of the trees, the flowing water through the fragments of the one-time dam, the sputtering of my candle which needed trimming. Sweat ran down my face and body, drenching me with cold. It crouched against the empty window, staring at me. After a time the presence seemed not so close. At last I seemed to know it was gone. In the gush of that enormous relief my remaining strength was swept away like a swimmer in a torrent, and I collapsed half-fainting in my chair. When I was able I rose and walked through the house again. Again the room showed nothing to my flashlight except dull furniture, walls peeling here and there from long neglect, pictures of no merit and dreary subject.  It was on my way upstairs to my bedroom that a sentence from the invisible lady's story came back to my mind. What crouches behind her unseen? The horror takes its own. The bedroom door opened quietly under my hand. The rain had ceased and a freshening breeze came from the west, filling the room with sweet country air. The candle had burned down. While I stood there the flame flickered out. After a brief indecision I made my way to the bed, rolled myself in the blankets, and laid down between the four pineapple-topped posts. This time I kept the flashlight in my hand. But almost at once I slept, and slept heavily far into a bright, windy March morning. CHAPTER III WIDE IS THE SEAT OF THE MAN GENTLE OF SPEECH INSTRUCTION OF KEY GEMNI In the second day after my return to New York, my Aunt Carolyn Knox called me up on the telephone. There are reasons why I always feel myself at a disadvantage with Aunt Carolyn. The first of these brings me to a trifling matter that I should have set down before, but which I have made a habit of ignoring so far as possible in both thought and speech. As was Lord Byron I am slightly lame. I admit that is the only quality in common. Still, I like the romantic association. Now my limp is very slight, and I never have found it interfered much with things I cared to do. In fact I am otherwise somewhat above the average in strength and vigor. But from my boyhood Aunt Carolyn always made a point of alluding to the physical fact as often as possible. She considered that course a healthful discipline. My nephew, she was accustomed to introduce me, lame since he was seven. Roger did not scowl. Yes, run over trying to save a pet dog, a mongrel of no value whatever. Which would have left some doubt as to whether she referred to poor tatters or to me, had it not been for her exceeding pride in our family tree. The second reason for my disadvantage before her was her utter contempt for my profession as a composer of popular music. Today her voice came thinly to me across the long-distance wire. Your cousin Filida has failed in her examinations again, she announced to me, with a species of tragic repose. In view of her father's intellect and my, or my family's, her mental status is inexplicable, although of course there is your own case. Why, she is the most educated girl I know, I protested hastily. I presume you mean best educated, Roger. Pray do not quite lose your command of language. I meant exactly what I had said. Filida has studied since she was three years old, exhaustively and exhaustedly.  It is a burden to be the only child of a professor, particularly for a meek girl. She has studied insufficiently, Aunt Carolyn pursued. She is nineteen and her position at Vassar is deplorable. Her health, I murmured. Would not have hampered her had she given proper attention to athletics. However, I did not call up to hear you defend Filida, in a matter of which you are necessarily ignorant. Her father and I are somewhat better judges, I should suppose, than a young man who is not a student in any true sense of the word and ignores knowledge as a purpose in life. Not that I wish to wound or depreciate you, Roger. There is, I may say, a steadiness of moral character beneath your frivolity of mind and pursuit. If my poor brother had trained you more wisely, if you had been my son, thank you, Aunt, I acknowledged the benevolent intention with an inward coiling at the clank of fetters suggested. Was there something I can do for you? Will you meet Filida at the Grand Central and bring her home? I cannot have her cross New York alone and take a second train out here. Her father has a lecture this afternoon and I have a club meeting at the house. With pleasure, Aunt, what time does her train get in? Half after four. Thank you, Roger. And she looks on you as an elder brother. I believe an attitude of cool disapproval on your part might impress upon her how she has disappointed the family. Leave it to me, Aunt. May I take her to tea between trains and get out to your place on the six o'clock express? If you think best, you might advise her seriously over the tea. A dash of lemon, as it were, I reflected. Certainly, Aunt, I could. Very well. I am really obliged. The pleasure is mine, Aunt. But that it was going to be Filida's I had already decided. She would need the support of tea and French pastry before facing her home. As for treating her with cool disapproval, I would sooner have spent a year at Vassar myself. It was my intention to meet her with a box of chocolates instead of advice. Fil was not a loud candy, her complexion being under cultivation. On the occasions when we were out together it had been my custom to provide a box of sweets upon which she browsed luxuriously, bestowing the remnants upon some street child before reaching her home. From the telephone I turned back to that frivolous pursuit of which my aunt had spoken with such tactfully veiled contempt. She was not softened by the respectable fortune I had made, from several successful musical comedies, and a number of efforts which my publishers advertise as high-class parlor pieces for the home. In fact she felt it to be a grievance that my lightness should be better paid than the professor's learning, in which she was no doubt right. Ever since my return from my newly purchased farm in Connecticut, however, I had not been working for money or popular approval, but for my own pleasure. There was a work upon which I spent only special hours of delicious leisure and infinite labour. It held all that was forbidden to popular compositions. Depth and sorrow and dissonance is dearer than harmony. I called it a symphony Polynesian, and I had spent years in study of barbaric music, instruments and kindred things that this love-child of mine might be more richly clothed by a tone or a fancy. Aunt Carolyn had interrupted this morning at a very point of achievement toward which I had been working through the usual alterations of enjoyment and exasperation, elevation and dejection that attend most workmen. Pausing only to set my alarm clock, I hurried into recording what I had found in the tangible form of paper and ink. I always set the alarm clock when I have an engagement warned by dire experiences. Aunt Carolyn had summoned me about eleven in the morning. When the strident voice of the clock again aroused me, I had just time to dress and reach the Grand Central by half past four. I recognized that I was hungry, that the vicinity was snowed over with sheets of paper, that the piano keys had acquired another ink-stain, and my pipe had charred another black spot on the desktop. Well, it had been a good day, and Phyllida's tea would have to be my belated luncheon or early dinner. Even so it was necessary to make haste. It was in that haste of making ready that I uncovered the braid of glittering hair which I had brought from Connecticut. I used no exaggeration when I say it glittered. It did. Each hair was lustrous with a peculiar shining vitality, and crinkled slightly along its full length. With a renewed self-reproach at sight of its humbled exile and captivity I took up the trophy of my one adventure. While I am without much experience such a quantity seemed unusual. Also I had not known such a mass of hair could be so soft and supple in the hand. My mother and little sister died before I can remember, and while I have many good friends I have none intimate enough to educate me in such matters. Perhaps a consciousness of that trifling physical disadvantage of mine has made me prefer a good deal of solitude in my hours at home. The faint tenacious yet volatile perfume drifted to my nostrils as I held the braid. Who could the woman be who brought that costly fragrance into a deserted farmhouse? For so exquisite and unique a fragrance could only be the work of a master perfumer. There was youth in that vigorous hair, coquetry in the individual perfume, panic in her useless sacrifice of the braid I held. That strangest self-possession in the telling of that fanciful tale of sorcery to me. On that tale, told dramatically in the dark, I had next morning blamed the weird waking nightmare that I had suffered after her visit. The horror of the night could not endure the strong sun and wind of the March morning that followed. Like Scrooge I analyzed my ghost as a bit of undigested beef or a blot of mustard. Certainly the thing had been actual enough while it lasted, but my reason had thrust it away. That was over, I reflected, as I laid the braid back in the drawer. But surely the lady was not vanished like the nightmare? Surely I should find her in some neighbor's daughter when my house was finished and I went there for the summer? She could not hide from me with that bright web about her head whose twin web I held. It had grown so late that I had to take a taxi cab to the terminal, just halting at a shop long enough to buy a box of the chocolates my cousin preferred. But when I reached the great station and found my way through the swirl of travelers to the track where Phil's train should come in, I was told the express had been delayed. Probably half an hour late, the gateman informed me. Maybe more, of course though she may pull in at any time. Which meant no tea for Philida, instead a rush across town to the Pennsylvania station to catch the train for her home. As I could not leave my post lest she arrive in my absence, it also meant nothing to eat for me until we reached Aunt Carolyn's hospitality, which was cool and restrained rather than festive. I foresaw the heavy atmosphere that would brood over all like a cold fog, this evening of Phil's disgraceful return from the scholastic arena. As entertaining from the gateman that the airing train was certain not to pull in during the next ten minutes, I saw a telephone booth. Aunt Carolyn, Phil's train is going to be very late, possibly an hour late, I misinformed my kin's woman when her voice answered me. I have had nothing to eat since breakfast, and she will be hungry long before we reach your house. May I not take her to dinner here in town? Please do not call your cousin Phil, she rebuked me, and paused to deliberate. You had no lunch, and you say? None. Why not? Were you ill? No, just busy. I forgot lunch. I am beginning to feel it now. Still, if you wish us to come straight home, do not consider me. I knew of old how submission mollified Aunt Carolyn. She relented now. Well, you are very good, Roger, to save your uncle a trip into the city to meet her. I must not impose upon you, but a quiet hotel. Certainly, Aunt. Filida does not deserve pampering enjoyment. I am consenting for your sake. Thank you, Aunt. I wonder then if you would mind if we stop to see a show that I especially want to look over, for business reasons. We would come out on the theatre express, as we have done before. You remember? Yes, but thank you. I'll take good care of her. Goodbye! The receiver was still talking when I hung up. There is no other form of conversation so incomparably convenient. The train arrived within the half hour. With the in-rush of travellers, I sighted Filida's sober young figure moving along the cement platform. She walked with dejection. Her gray suit represented a compromise between fashion and her mother's opinion of decorum, thus attaining a length and fullness not enough for grace yet too much for jauntiness. Her solemn gray hat was set too squarely upon the pale brown hair, brushed back from her forehead. Her nice, young girl's eyes looked out through a pair of shell-rimmed spectacles. She was too thin and too pale to content me. When she saw me coming toward her, her face brightened and colored quite warmly. She waved her bag with actual abandon and her lagging step-quicken to a run. "'Cousin Roger,' she exclaimed breathlessly, "'oh, how good of you to come!' she gripped my hands in a candid fervor of relief and pleasure. "'I am so glad it is you,' she insisted. I was sorry the train could not be later. I wished almost it would never get in, and all the time it was you who were waiting for me.' It was, and now you are about to share an orgy,' I told her. "'I have your mother's permission to take you to dinner, Miss Knox.' "'Here? In town? Just us?' "'Yes, and afterward we will take in any show you fancy. How does that strike you?' She gazed up at me, absorbing the idea and my seriousness. To my dismay she grew pale again. "'I—I really believe it will keep me from just dying!' I pretended to think that a joke. But I recognized that my little cousin was on the sloping way toward a nervous breakdown. "'No baggage?' I observed. "'Good. I hope you did not eat too much luncheon. This will be an early dinner.'  "'I do not need them, except to study. But I didn't dare meet mother without them,' she explained. "'No, I could not eat lunch or breakfast either, cousin Roger. Nor much dinner last night. Oh, if you knew how I dread the grind, I should rather run away.' "'So we will, for this evening?' "'Yes. Where? Where were you going to take me?' We had crossed the great white hall to street level, and a taxi-car was rolling up to halt before us. Surprised by the anxiety in the eyes she lifted to mine, I named the stayed quietly fastidious hotel where I usually took her when we were permitted an excursion together. "'Unless you have a choice,' I finished. "'I have,' she breathed, resolution. I want to go to a restaurant with a cabaret instead of going to the theatre. "'May I? Please, may I? Will you take me where I say, this one time?' Her earnestness amazed me. I knew what her mother would say. I also knew, or thought I knew, that Phyllida needed the mental relaxation which comes from having one's own way. In her mood no one else's way, however wise or agreeable, will do it all.' "'All right,' I yielded, if you will promise me, faith of a gentle woman, to tell Aunt Carolyn that I took you there and you did not know where you were going. My shoulders are broader than yours and have borne the buffeting of thirty-two years instead of nineteen. Had you chosen the place, or shall I?' To my second surprise she answered with the name of an uptown place where I never had been and where I would have decidedly preferred not to take her. "'They have a skating ballet,' she urged, as I hesitated. I know it is wonderful. Please, please!' I gave the direction to the chauffeur and followed my cousin into the cab. It seemed a proper moment to present the chocolates from my overcoat pocket. Once she proved too languid to unwrap the box I was seriously uneasy. You cannot possibly know how dreadful it is to be the only child of two intellectual people who expect one to be a credit. She excused her lack of appetite, nervously twitching the guilt cord about the package.  Yes, as long as I can remember, I have been a disappointment. If only there had been another to divide all those expectations. If only you had been my brother. "'Heaven forbid,' I exclaimed hastily. That is, don't bother about explaining,' she smiled wanily. I understand. But you are distinguished, and you look it. I never will be, and I am ugly. Mother expects me to be an astronomer like father and work with him, or to go in for club life and serious writing as she does. I never can do either. Neither could I, Phil. You are clever, successful. Everybody knows your name.  Very original, is it not? Of course I do not understand music, but I hear that his last light opera, and then she leans back and just eats up all the nice things said about your work. She would never let you know it, but she does. And that is the sort of thing she wants from me. I want to make cookies, and I love fancy work.  I imagine Philoda had the vaguest ideas of what such places were like. When we were settled at a table in a general blaze of pink lights, beside a fountain that ran colored water, I regarded her humorously. But she seemed quite contented with her surroundings. Looking about her with an air I can best describe as grave excitement. At this hour the room was not half-filled, and the jazz orchestra had withdrawn to prepare for a hard night's work. After I had ordered our dinner I glanced up to see her fingers busyed, loosening the severe lines of her brushed-back hair. Everyone here looks so nice, she said wistfully. I wish my hair did shine and cuddle around my face like those women's does. Do I look queer, cousin? You're looking at me so. I was thinking what pretty eyes you have. Her pale face flushed. Really? Most truthfully, as for the hair, isn't that a matter of bottled polish and hairdressers? But you remind me of a question for you. Isn't a braid of hair this wide, I laid off the dimensions on the table, this long and thick a good deal for a woman to own? Show me again!" I obeyed, while she leaned forward to observe. Not one girl in a hundred has so much, she pronounced judgment. Who is she? Probably it isn't all her own, anyhow. It is not now, but it was, I said remorsefully. How could you tell? Did you measure it? With sarcasm. Do you remember the maxim we used to write in copybooks? Measure a thousand times and cut once? One has to be cautious. I cut it first and then measured. What? Tell me! At last she was interested and amused. There was no reason why I should not tell her of my midnight adventure. We never repeated one another's little confidences. She listened, with many comments and exclamations, to the story of the unseen lady, the legend of the fair witch, the dagger that was a paper knife by day, and the severed tresses. She did not hear of the singular nightmare or hallucination that had been my second visitor. My reason had accounted for the experience and dismissed it. Some other part of myself avoided the memory, with that deep, unreasoning sense of horror sometimes left by a morbid dream. The dinner-crowd had flowed in while we ate and talked. A burst of applause aroused me to this fact and the commencement of the first show of the evening. The orchestra had taken their places. They will hardly begin with their best act, I remarked, surprised by Philoda's convulsive start and rapt intentness upon the stretch of ice that formed the exhibition floor. Your ballet on skates probably will come later. I did not come to see the ballet, she answered, her voice low. No? What then? A man I know. Once when I was a little fellow I raced headlong into the low swinging branch of a tree, the bow striking me across the forehead so that I was bowled over backward amid a shower of apples. I felt a twin sensation now. Here, Philoda? Yes. Someone from your hometown or your college town? I essayed a casual tone. Neither. He belongs here and they call him Flying Veer. He—look, look, cousin! I turned and saw that the first performer was upon the ice floor. He came down the center like a silver-shod mercury. In the silence, for the orchestra did not accompany his entrance, the faint musical ringing of his skates ran softly with him. My first unwilling recognition of his good looks and athletic grace was followed by an equally reluctant admission of his skill. Reluctant because my anger and bewilderment were hot against the man.  At the mere joining of their names my senses revolted. What could they have in common? How had she seen him? Having seen him, it was easy to understand how he had fascinated her inexperience. Only what was his object? He had seen us where we sat. I saw his dark eyes fix upon her and flashed some message.  She leaned forward to watch and answer, glance for glance. I would rather not put into words my thoughts, yet I watched his performance. In spite of myself, he held me with his swift certain skill, his vitality and youth. He was gone with the swooping suddenness of his appearance. The jazz music clattered out. Philoda turned back to me and began to speak with the hushed rapture that baffled and infuriated me. You understand, cousin Roger? Now that you have seen him, you do understand? No. Let me talk, please. Let me tell you if I can. It began last summer, at the school where I was cramming for college work. Oh, how tired I was of study! How tired of it I am, and always shall be! I think that side of me never will get rested. Then, in the woods, I met him. He was stopping at a hotel not far away. I—we— I waited for her to go on. Instead, she abruptly spread wider hands in a gesture of helplessness. After all, I cannot tell you. Not even you, cousin. He—he liked me. He treated me just as a really, truly girl who would have partners at dances and wear fluffy frocks and curler hair. He thought I was pretty. The naïve wonder and triumph of her cry—the challenge in her brown eyes, to my belief—were moving things. I registered some ugly mental comments on the rearing of Phil and the kind of humility that is not good for the soul. Why not, I demanded. Of course! She shook her head. No. Thank you, but no. Not pretty, except to him. Only to him. Because he loves me. I do not know what impatience I exclaimed. She checked me, leaning across the table, to grasp my hands in both hers. Hush! Oh hush, dear cousin Roger! For it is quite too late. We were married six months ago, last autumn. When I could, I asked. Married legally, beyond a mistake? Were you not, under eighteen years old? I was eighteen years and a half. There is no mistake at all. We walked over to the city hall in the nearest town, and took out our license, and were married. Very well. I will take you home to your father and mother, now. Then see this man myself. If there is indeed no flaw in the marriage, and it cannot be annulled, a divorce must be arranged. Any money I have, or expect to have, would be a small price to set you free from the miserable business. But the first thing is to get you home. We will start now. She detained my hand when I would have signaled our waiter. Her eyes, shining and solemn, as a small child's, met mine. No, cousin, please. I am not going home any more. At least not alone. I asked you to bring me here where he is, because I am going to stay with my husband. Never, I stated firmly. Yes. Not if I have to send for your father and take you home by force. You cannot. I am of age. Filida, I am responsible for you to your parents tonight. Let me take you home, explain things to them, and then decide your course. But that is what I most do not want to do, she naively exclaimed. You will not? I am sorry. No. Then I must see the man. Not hurt! I recalled the man we had just seen on the skating floor, with a qualm of quite unreasonable bitterness. That anxiety of Filida's had a flavor of irony for me. Hardly, I returned, there are fortunately other means of persuasion than physical force. Oh! But you cannot persuade him to give me up! I was silent, at which, being a woman, she grew troubled. How could you, she urged? You have had no opportunity of judging what influence money has on some people, Phil. She laughed out in relief. Is that all? Try, cousin. You trust him so much? In everything, forever. Then if I succeed in buying him off, promise me that you will come home with me. If he takes money to leave me? Yes. I should die. But I will promise, if you want me to, because I know it never will happen, just as I might promise to do anything when I knew that I never would have to carry it out. Very well, I accepted the best I could get. I will go find him. There is no need.  I will not have you seen with him in this place. But I am going to stay here with him, she said. Her eyes, the meek eyes of Philoda, defied me. My faint authority was a sham. What could be done, I recognized, must be done through the man. She sat in silence after that. Presently her gaze fixed a slant on me as if to dare my interference. She drew up a thin gold chain that hung about her neck and ended beneath her blouse. From it she unfastened a wedding-ring and gravely put the thing on her third finger, the schoolgirl romanticism of the gesture, blended with an air of little girl naughtiness. She looked more fit for a nursery than for this business. I could tell from the change in her expression when the man was approaching. I rose, meaning to meet him and turn him aside from our table. But Philoda halted me with one deftly planted question. You would not leave me alone in this place, cousin? Certainly I would not leave her alone at a table here. Not even alone in appearance while I had my interview with the man close at hand. Yet it seemed impossible to speak before her. She calmly answered my perplexity. You must talk to him here, of course. I want to listen to you both. Indeed, I shall not interfere at all, or be angry or hurt. I know how good you mean to be, dear. Certainly you do not understand. I sat down again, perforce. When the man's shadow presently fell across our table, it did not soothe me to see Phil thrust her hand in his. Her small face enraptured, her fingers locking about his with a caress plain as a kiss. She said proudly, if tremulously, Cousin Roger, this is my husband. Mr. Locke, Ethan, dear. He said nothing. His hesitating movement to offer his hand I chose to ignore. I admit that my spirit rose against him to the point of loathing as he stood there, tall, correct in attire, the focus of admiring glances from other diners, in every way the antithesis of my poor Philoda. Sit down, I bade curtly, when he did not speak. Miss Knox insists that we have our interview here. I should have preferred otherwise, but her presence must not prevent what has to be said. It won't prevent anything I want to say, Mr. Locke, he answered. He spoke with a drawl, not the drawl of affectation, nor the drawl of south or west so cherished by the romantic, but the slow, deliberate speech of New England's upper coasts. It had the oddest effect that honest, homely accent on the lips of a performer in this place. Phil drew him down to the third chair at the table, after which she folded her hands on the edge of the cloth, as if to signify to me how she kept her promise of neutrality, and looked fixedly at her glass of water instead of at either of us. Plainly, all action was supposed to proceed from me. My cousin has just told me of her marriage, I opened, as dryly concise as I could manage explanation. It is, of course, impossible that she should adopt your way of living, as she seems to have in mind. You may not understand yet that it also is impossible for you to adopt hers. No doubt you have supposed her to be the daughter of wealthy people, or at least people of whom money could be obtained. You were wrong. Professor Knox has nothing but his modest salary. Her parents are of the scholarly, not of the moneyed class. She has no kin who could or would support her husband, or pay largely to be rid of him.  It happens also that I am not sentimental, nor alarmed at the idea of newspaper exploitation for either of us. It is necessary that all this be plainly set forth before we go further. Now for your side. You have involved Miss Knox to the extent of marriage. To free her from this trap into which her inexperience has walked is worth a reasonable price. I will pay it. I shall take her home to her father and mother to-night and consult my lawyer to-morrow. He will conduct negotiations with you. The day Miss Knox is divorced from you without useless scandal or troublemaking, I will pay to you the sum agreed upon with my lawyer. If you prefer to make yourself objectionable, you will get nothing, now or later. He took it all without a flicker of the eyelid, not interrupting or displaying any affectation of being insulted. I acknowledge now that it was an outrageous speech to make to a man of whom I knew nothing. But it was so intended, summing up what I considered an outrageous situation brought about by his playing upon a young girl's ignorance of such fellows as himself. Filida's usually pale cheeks were burning. Several times she would have broken in upon me with protests, if Vier had not silenced her by the merest glances of warning, a proof of his influence over her which had not inclined me toward gentleness with him. When I finished there was a pause before he turned his dark eyes to mine and held them there. Honest enough, he drawled with that incongruous coast of Maine tang to his leisureness. I'll match you there, Mr. Locke.  It's nothing to me. I guess we can do without your lawyer, too, because, you see, I married Mrs. Vier because I wanted her, and I figure on supporting her. If her folks are too cultivated to stand me, I'm sorry. But they won't have to see me. So that settled. He was honest. His glance drove that fact home to me with a fist-like impact. There was nothing I was so poorly prepared to meet. Philip's hands went out to him in an impulsive movement. He covered them both with one of his for a moment, before gently putting them in her lap with a gesture of reminder toward the revelers all about us. The delicacy of that thought for her was another disclosure of character unconsciously made. Worthy or unworthy, he did love Phil. I am not too deli obstinate to recognize a mistake of my own. Whatever my bitterness against the man, I had to accord him some respect. I sat for a while striving to align my forces to attack this new front. I don't blame you for thinking what you said, Mr. Locke. His voice presently spoke across my perplexity. I can see the way things came to you, finding me here and all. I'm glad to have had this chance to talk it out with one of my wife's relations. I'd like them to know she'll be taken care of. Outside of that, I guess there is nothing we have to say to each other.  Oh, that's all right, for both of us. I can see how much store you set by her. But what are you going to do with her, man? I burst forth. Do you expect to keep her here, sitting at a table in this place and watching you do your turn, making your fellow performers her friends, seeing and learning? I checked my outpouring of disgust. Or do you propose to shut her up in some third-class boarding-house day and night while you hang around here? Good heavens, Veer! Do you realize what either life would be for a 19-year-old girl brought up as she has been? He colored. As for bringing up, he retorted, I guess she couldn't be a lot more miserable than her folks worried her into being. But you're right about the rest. That's why I was going to leave her with her folks yet a while, till I had a place for her. I mean, while I saved up enough to get the place. But I wrote to him when I failed in my exams, cousin Roger. I told him that I would not go home. I could not bear it. I was coming to him, and he would just have to keep me with him, or I should die. Indeed, I do not care about places. I think it will be lovely fun to sit here and watch him, or go behind the scenes with him and make friends with the other people. I—I am surprised that you are so narrow, cousin Roger, when all your own best friends are theatrical people, and artists, and you think so highly of them. I answered nothing to that. The distance between the stage and this class of cabaret show was not to be traversed in a few seven-league words. I looked at Veer, who returned my look squarely and soberly. "'You needn't worry about her being here, Mr. Locke,' he said. "'I know better than that. But she has to come to me. It's her right, don't you think? I'll promise you to take her to a better place as soon as I can manage.' "'What kind of place?' "'I'm saving to get a place in the country,' he answered diffidently. "'I'm a countryman, and Phyllida thinks she'd like it.' "'You?' I exclaimed, unable to smother my derision and unbelief. My glance summed up his fastidious apparel and grooming, the gloss on his curling dark hair, and the dubious diamond on his little finger. He reddened through his clear dark skin, but his eyes were not those of a man taken in a lie. "'Did you take notice of what I'd do here?' he asked me, with the first touch of humility I had seen in him. "'I couldn't dance or sing or do parlor tricks. I wasn't bred to parlors or indoors. But I learned to skate pretty fancy from a boy up. My folk's farm was on the side of a lake and the school house on the other. On November that lake used to freeze solid. My brother and I used to skate five miles to school and back again, before we were six years old. We lived on skates about half the year, I guess. Well, you don't care about the rest, how the farm was just about big enough to support my elder brother and his family. And I came to New York. Or how I found New York pretty well filled up with folks who knew considerably more than I did. It was the manager of this place who advertised for expert skaters, who dressed me up like this, and paid me the first living wages I'd had in the city. All the same I was bred a farmer, and I mean to get back to it. Always have.  My father would have taken the buggy whip to me, I guess, if he had lived to see me in this rig. Soon as I've got enough put by, I'll shed this perfumed suit and the cheap jewelry, and take my wife where she can have a chance to forget I ever wore them. But I like them, put Infillida ardently. Please do not fuss so, Ethan, because I really do.   Would you care for him as an ordinary, hard-working fellow, in a pair of overalls and a flannel shirt? No applause, no lights, no stage? She laughed up at me. You have forgotten that I met Ethan while he was on a vacation from his work here, and roughing it. When I married him I had hardly seen him in anything except his navy flannel shirt, scrubby trousers, and funny blunt-toed shoes. You served in the war, I asked him. He nodded. Yes, on a submarine chaser. Got pneumonia from exposure and was invalidated home just before the armistice. And you came back here? I came here, he corrected me. I enlisted from Maine. I was discharged in New York. That was when I couldn't find anything I could do until this skating-trip came along. I sat thinking for a time, as long thoughts as I could command. The obvious course was to send for Philip his father. Yet what could that vague and learned gentleman do that I could not? I visioned the professor standing in this riotous, gaudy restaurant, swinging his eyeglasses by their silk ribbon and peering at veer in helpless distaste and consternation. It was practically certain that Phil would refuse to go home with him. But if she did go home, I could picture the scene there when the truth came out, the mortification of her people, the gossip in the little town, her outcast position among the girls and boys with whom she had grown up. What a martyrdom for a sensitive spirit! Of course the only possible thing considered by Aunt Carolyn would be a prompt divorce. If Philada refused to consent to a divorce, how could she live at home as the wife of a man her parents had pronounced unfit to receive? If she yielded and gave up veer, would she be much better off? An embarrassment to her family, the heroine of a stolen marriage and Reno freedom, what chances of happiness would she have in her conventional circle? Probably as she neither was a beauty nor the dashing type of girl who might make capital of such a reputation. Probably she would bury herself in none like seclusion, stay in her room when collars came, and wear a veil when she went out to walk. Meanwhile she would break her heart for veer. Could matters be any worse if she tried life with him, even if the experiment eventually proved a failure and ended in a divorce instead of beginning there? Might not her parents be spared much they most dreaded if their friends could be told simply that Philada had made a love-match and was with her husband?  Had any of us the right to lay hands upon her existence and mold it to our fancy? I looked up from my reverie to find the eyes of both of them fixed on me as if I held their doom balanced upon my palm. Perhaps in a sense I did.  I asked her. I thought I knew the answer to this, and I did. No, Cousin Roger, she refused firmly. Please forgive me. I know how kind you mean to be, but no. I shall stay with Ethan. If ever you love anyone you will understand. I accepted the decision. There was no reason why I should think of the woman who had spoken to me across the darkness, in a voice of melody and power, or why I should seem to feel again the exquisite, live softness of her braid within my hand. But it was so. Very well, I said, veer it is to you, then, as Philada's husband, that I must address any plans. I do not pretend to like the course she has taken. I do not know what action her parents may take, although I believe they will listen to my advice. Putting all that aside, she refuses to come with me, and you agree that she cannot stay here. I have just bought a farm in Connecticut, intending to use it as a summer home. There are some alterations and repairs being made, but little is to be changed inside the house, and it is in perfectly livable shape. There is my offer. Take Philada there, and I will make you manager of the place. I will pay all reasonable expenses of putting the land into proper condition, and getting such stock and equipment as you judge best, all expenses and upkeep of the house, and whatever salary usually is drawn by such managers of small estates. I shall be there, on and off, but you and Philada must take charge of everything. I am neither a farmer nor a housekeeper, and do not wish to be either. I bought the place only because New York is too hot to work in during three months of the year, and I hate summer resorts. Keep my room ready, and you will find I disturb you little. Of course, hire what servants are necessary. Now, if you make the place self-supporting inside of five years, I will deed the whole thing to you, too. To put it better, if you succeed in making the farm pay a living for yourselves, I will make it over to you and withdraw. If you fail, well, I suppose you will be no worse off than you are now. They were stricken speechless. Perhaps my attitude had not pointed to such a conclusion of our interview. Philada told me long afterward that she expected me to bid them good evening and abandon them forever, as my mildest course, with alternative possibilities such as summoning a policeman and having veer hail to prison. Seeing their condition, I rose. I will stroll about and leave you a chance to talk it over, I declared, although there are fewer deals I dislike more than displaying my limp about such public rooms. Veer stopped me, rising as I rose. No need of that for us, he answered, facing me across the little table. About giving us your farm, Mr. Locke, that's for the future. Just now the manager's job is plenty big enough to thank you for. I wish I could say it better. If you'll stay here with Philada for ten minutes until I can get back, I'll be obliged. Where are you going? To resign here and get my outfit into a suitcase.  There were none of the hesitations and excuses to stay in town that I had half expected. It pleased me that he decided to fulfill as well as himself. Some of my ideas about marriage are antiquated, I admit. I nodded to him and sat down again. It is unnecessary to record the childish things Philada tried to say to me while he was gone. I am so happy! was her apology for threatened tears. I never knew anyone except Ethan could be so kind. And will you tell father and mother? Yes. I winced, though, at that prospect.  She obeyed, why died? You do toe to powder, Puff. I did not know whether Aunt Carolyn permitted it. Rub it on your nose, I advised, passing the bit of fluff to her. While she complied, almost like a normally frivolous girl, I used the moment to transfer a few bank notes to the bag so some need might not find her penniless. Vir came back in not much more than the promised ten minutes. He had changed to gray street clothes and carried a suitcase. I noted that the diamond had disappeared from his finger, and his curly head looked as if it had been held under a water-faucet and vigorously towled to lessen the brilliantine gloss. If you'll tell us where your farm is, Mr. Locke, we'll start, he volunteered. Philada looked up at him with eyes of adoring trust. I had the porter at the terminal check my suitcase to be called for. We shall have to get it, dear. In spite of myself, I smiled at their amazing promptitude. There was both reassurance and pathos in its unconscious youth. All this eagerness pressing forward, where? They did not know, nor I. Certainly we did not dream how strange a goal awaited one of us three, or on what weird, desolate path that Traveller's foot was already set. You had better go to a good hotel for tonight, I modified their plan. Tomorrow is time enough to go out to the farm, by daylight. Phil has had enough excitement for one day. I will write full directions for the trip, Vir, on the back of this timetable of the railroad you must take. They were enchanted with this suggestion. Indeed, they were in a state of mind to have assented if I advised them to sit out on a park bench until morning. Yet when I had put them and their scanty luggage into a taxi cab, I suffered a bad pang of misgiving. What responsibility was I assuming in letting my little girl cousin go like this? What did I know of this man, or where he would take her?  I am so happy, she whispered. I turned to Vir, who had a long envelope in readiness to put in my hand. I guess you might like to have these for a while, Mr. Locke, he said, with one of his slow, straightforward glances. With which farewells I had to be content, and watch their taxi swing out into the bright dark flow of traffic, where it was lost from my sight. After which I entered another taxi cab by my unromantic self, and was driven to that railroad station where I would find a train bound to the college town that was the home of Aunt Carolyn and her husband. Carolyn always thought of Phyll's parents in that order, although the professor was a moderately distinguished scientist, and his spouse merely masterful in her own limited circle. The envelope Vir had given me contained their marriage certificate, his release from the navy, and his membership card in the American Legion. CHAPTER IV FAIR speech is more rare than the emeralds found by slave-maidens on the pebbles. At ten o'clock, next morning, I was summoned for my sleep by the bell of the telephone beside my bed. It was not a pleasant sleep, although I had not returned to my apartment until dawn. Nightmare doubts galloped ruthless hooves over any repose. Philip's voice came over the wire to me like the morning song of a bird. Good morning, cousin Roger. We are going to take the train in a few moments, but I could not leave New York without telling you how happy I am. Are you—did I wake you up? I was afraid that I might, but Ethan said you would like me to call even so. My dear, it was the kindest thought you ever had, I told her fervently. Was it—she hesitated—then were they pretty dreadful to you at home? Quite. Do you suppose they will do anything dreadful about us? No, nothing. It did not seem necessary to tell her that Aunt Carolyn did not know where the runaways had gone, and was thereby debarred from hasty action. Philip's father had privately agreed with me in this. I am so very happy, cousin Roger. I am glad, Phil. And you will come to the farm soon? Soon, I promised. So the nightmares of immediate anxiety for her galloped themselves away routed for that time. Like my goldfish, when their bowl has been unduly shaken, I sank down again into the quieted waters of my little world, and absorption in my own affairs. There have been hours when I wondered if I was of more importance than they, as a matter of cosmic fact. A month passed before I kept my promise to go to the farm in Connecticut. As a first reason, I wanted to leave my young couple alone for a period of adjustment. Also I was curious to see how they would handle the business left to them. I held telephone conversations with Philoda and with various contractors now and then. I sent out the furnishings for my own room. Everything else I purposely left to the experimenters. There was a second reason, more obscure. I wanted to keep for a while the little mystery of the lady who had come to the farmhouse room in the dark of the night. She was pure romance, a rare incident in a prosaic age. My table had been bare of such delicately spiced morsels, and I relished the savor of this one upon my pallet. I was not quite ready to find her in the matter of fact daughter of some neighbor, who had sought shelter from the storm in that supposedly empty house, and probably mistaken me for a tramp. Perhaps I was equally reluctant to go back and prove that the adventure was ended, that she had been a bird of passage who had gone on with no thought of return. With all these delays, and the fact that my work really kept me busy in town, April was verging toward May when I finally saw the last of my luggage put into the car and started on my fifty mile drive to the house by the lake. I did not take this first visit very seriously, or intend it to be over long. To be a constraint upon the household I had established, or assume a right there, was far from the course I planned. It was not certain Vir and I would be comfortable housemates. But to stay away together would have hurt Filida as much as to stay too long, I considered. Hopefully a week would be about enough for this time. So lightly, so ignorantly, I stepped from the first great division of my life into the second, not hearing the closing of the gate through which there was no turning back. CHAPTER V The very room, because she was him, seemed warm from floor to ceiling, the courten. I arrived at noon when a bright sun set the country air afloat with notes like dust of gold. The place seemed drenched in golden light. Even the young grass had gold in its green, and the lake glittered hot with yellow sparkles. The house was transformed. The cream-colored stucco that hid its only wall, deep arched porches that took the place of the old shallow affairs, scarlet Spanish tiles where bleached shingles had been, all united in giving it the gayest, most modern air imaginable. A gravel drive curved in beneath the new port-cauchere, inviting the wheels of my car to explore. Grass had been put in order, flower beds laid out. The new dam was up, and the miniature lake no longer suggested a swamp. If the place had appealed to me in its dreary neglect, now it held out its arms to me and laughed in invitation. As I stepped from my car, I heard running feet and a girl sped around the veranda to meet me. She cast herself into my arms before I fairly realized this was Filida. A Filida as new to my eyes as the house. After the first greetings I held her off to analyze the change. She was tanned and actually rosy. The corners of her once sad little mouth turned up instead of down, and developed, I looked twice, yes, developed a dimple. The dull hair I always had seen brushed plainly back, now was parted on one side, and fluffed itself across her forehead and about her cheeks with an astonishing effectiveness. She was attired in a china-blue linen frock with a scarlet sash nodded in front quite daringly for Filida. Why, Phil, how pretty we are, I admired.  I noticed she wore above her wedding-ring that diamond which once had adorned Veer's finger so distastefully to me. It shone bravely in the sunlight with quite a display of fire. Tracing my gaze she held out her hand for me to see. Yes, it was his, cousin Roger. Of course we have not very much money yet and I do not care about all the engagement-rings that ever were thought of. But I was afraid people up here might notice that I had none and think slightingly of Ethan. So I asked him and we went to a jeweler who made it smaller to fit me. It is not a false stone, you know. It is a white topaz, and I love it better than the biggest diamond. When you are still happy? Forever and ever, world without end, she answered solemnly. We went in. Sun and sweet wind had worked white magic in the long-closed house. Quaint furniture, no longer dust-grimed but lustrous with cleanliness and polish, had quite a different air. Fresh upholstery in cheerful tints. Fresh paper on the walls. Good rugs. Order and daintyness everywhere changed the interior out of my recognition. Already the atmosphere of home and cheer was established. Come see your rooms, Philoda invited and raptured by my admiration. They are so pretty! She ran up the stairs, around the passage, and ushered me into the room of graceful adventure and grotesque nightmare. I stopped on the threshold. I had ordered the partition removed between the two chambers on this side, giving me one large room. This, with the little bathroom attached, occupied the entire large frontage of the house. This long, spacious room, floors covered by my Chinese rugs, walls echoing the rugs' smoke-blue, my piano in a bright corner, my special easy-chairs and writing-table in their due places, welcomed me with such familiar comfort that I could not identify the neglected chamber where I had slept one night in the old bed with the four pineapple-topped posts. The windows were opened, and white curtains with their over-draperies of blue silk were swinging in and out on a fresh breeze where the horror of my dream had seemed to press itself against the black panes. Decidedly, I must have had a bad attack of indigestion that night. See how nice! Philoda was urging appreciation at my side. We swung those lovely old hangings from the arch, so they can be drawn across the bedroom end of your room, if you like. Although I do not know why you should like, everything is so pretty. Your long Venetian mirror came safely, and all your darling lamps. And I hope you like it so well, cousin Roger, that you will stay here always. When she left me alone, I walked to the different windows, contemplating the stretches of lawn dotted with budding apple-trees, and the lake that lay beyond, shining in the sun. Was Philoda's charming wish to become a fact, I wondered? Could this rest and calm hold me content here, where I had meant merely to pause and pass on? I looked at the yellow country road meandering past the lake into unseen distance. Could I ever see my lady of the beautiful tresses come that way, or travel that road to where she lived? If I did meet her, would she forgive me the loss of her braid? There would be a test for the sweetness of her disposition. When a chiming dinner-gong summoned me downstairs, I found Veer awaiting me beside Philoda. We shook hands, and he made some brief, pleasant speech about there having expected me sooner. If pale, timid Phil had become a surprising butterfly, Veer had taken the reverse progress toward the sober grub. I like him better in outing-clothes, although he showed even more the unusual good looks which so unreasonably prejudiced me against him. If he felt any strain in our meeting, his slow, tranquil trick of speech and manner covered it. I hope I did as well. It was then I discovered that his wife's pet name for him fitted like a glove. She called him Drawls. The luncheon was good, cooked and served by a middle-aged Swedish woman named Christina. Afterward I was conducted into the kitchen by the lady of the house to view the new fittings and improvements. Most odd and pretty it was to see Philoda in that role of housewife, and to watch her pride in Veer and deference to him. Let me record that I never saw the daughter of Aunt Carolyn fail in this settled course toward her husband. Whether it was born of revulsion from her mother's hectoring domestic method, or of consciousness that outsiders might rate Veer below his wife in station and education, so her respect for him must forbid their slight I do not know. But I never saw her oppose him or speak rudely to him before other people. I suppose they may have had the usual conjugal differings, neither of them being angelic. If so, no outsider ever glimpsed the fact. We spoke of nothing serious on that first day. They both showed me the various improvements finished or progressing indoors or out. We dined as agreeably as we had lunched. Quite early afterward I excused myself and left together the two who were still in their honeymoon. At the door of my room I pushed a wall switch that lighted simultaneously three lamps. In this I had repeated the arrangement used by me for years in my city apartment. I have a demand for light somewhere in my makeup, and no reason for not indulging it. There flashed out of the dusk a large lamp upon my writing table, a tall floor lamp beside the piano, and a reading lamp on a stand beside my bed at the far end of the room. All three were shaded in a smoke-blue and rose-color effect that long since had caught my fancy for night work, the shades inset with imitation semi-precious stones, rough-cut things of sapphire, tourmaline pink, and baroque pearl. I lay emphasis upon this to make clear how normal, serene, and even familiar in effect was the room into which I came. Yet as I closed the door behind me and stood in that softly brilliant radiance, a shudder shook me from head to foot with the violence of an electric shock. A sense of suffocation caught at my throat like an unseen hand. Both sensations were gone in the time of a drawn breath, leaving only astonishment in their wake. Presently I went on with the purpose that had brought me upstairs, lifting a portfolio to the table and beginning to unpack the work which I had been doing in New York. As I laid out the first sheets of music there drifted to my ears that vague sound from the lake I had heard in my first night visit here, while I stood on the tumbledown porch. The sound that was like the smack of glutinous lips, or some creature drawing itself out of thick, viscid slime. As before I wondered what movement of the shallow waters could produce that result. Not the tide now, for the new dam was up and the lake cut off from Long Island Sound. The pouring of the waterfall flowed on as a reminder of that fact. The sound was not repeated. The dusk outside the windows offered nothing unusual to be seen. I finished my unpacking and sat down at my writing table. I am not accustomed to heed time. There never has been anyone to care what hours I kept and I worked best at night. Night was long past when I thought of rest. I declare that I thought of nothing more, not even recalling the vague unease felt on entering the room. A day spent in the fresh air, followed by an evening of hard work and journeyings between the piano and table, had left me utterly weary. When I lay down it was to sleep at once.


TRNG are the two random number generators. So it's a 32-bit random generator based on the noise source. This is a simplified block diagram of these random number generators and it shows the basics functional and control module. The random number generator is based on an analog circuit made of several ring oscillators, whose outputs are XOR to generate the set that fit the linear feedback shift registers. So it will produce the 32-bit random generator after. This linear feedback shift register is clocked by a dedicated RNG clock signal. So the quality of this one could be independent from the HCL frequency. But that's depending on the chip and checking the reference manuals, this aspect. The content of the linear feedback shift register is transferred to the data register when the significant number of seed has been produced. And in parallel, we can see the error management with a clock shaker and full detectors. At the output, I will say we've got three flags on one interrupt. So we've got the fact that we can enable the interrupt. We have the value that is ready. So a valid random is ready to be checked. Then we've got a sequence error in the linear feedback. That means we detect that something is not normal. We have something regular at output. So it's not a real true number. So please do not use the value generated when you've got such kind of error. We've got a frequency error that is detected on the sources RNG clock. Here you can use random data, but it's up to you. I don't have many things to say more about this hardware. It's a key hardware in the meaning that for the cryptographic, we have a real true number generator is quite important. Maybe let's check now the variability across STM32 family. So it's a valuable in F2, F4, F7, on L0, but not on all the part. L4, L5, H7, G0, G4, and WB. As a preference, I invite you to have a look in this application note, 42.30, which is quite interesting.


The camp of the PDP so much has happened in that camp that if I were in the Nollywood sector probably would have a series, you know, from the G5 to all that the former governor of the Kiddy States has said and several other things playing out in the camp of the PDP. Well, that party has referred the Benou State Governor, Samuel Autumn, to its Distillery Committee for Alleged Anti-Party Activities and the party, however, suspended former governor of the Kiddy State, Ayodele Fioshe, and the former Senate President, Secretary to the Government of the Federation, I am Pius, I am other party officials, we're also suspended and they are Professor Dennis Iseria and Dr. Aslam Aliou. Now, let me go to you. Let me start with you, Poonabo. Do you see these moves threatening the party? Before you start, you remember, I was supposed to have left at the leg. All right, before you go, I'll take this on you. Yeah, before you go, do you see this move by the PDP strengthening that party, or do you see further weakening the party?  Probably my concern and the consequences are that is unsentimental, but my greatest worry is why the name of a man like my governor is not even on that list, because his role was threatened. He went to Lagos State and Dostopundi, the Lagos State governor for the second time. Dostopundi said he supported Balaam-e-Tibidu, Antioch. So what could be more anti-party than this? That's one question. That's one question. That's one question is a burning question that the PDP should answer, never the less the elections are over. So I think it is time to clean the other's table. Probably the PDP wants to purge itself of the so-called rules in the party. The likes of Atom, the suspension being found to nurse a surprise, the G5 government, I am so pleased that despite the high blood pressure of the certain veterans, they could not perform. They are an enemy of deeds. They all lost. Save the bastards. And when the courts, as you do the case on Namata, will all see what the courts will say concerning them. Because it's in court? Because it's in court? I don't want to go into that. You know? The already matter is a court. So then it's going into that. What happened in the university? What then? Even at that, if you talk about, we are not talking about antipathy. This is a man who kept castigating, he does no name, all the Bitroyals and so on, the party chairmen and so on. And even said the PDP was over to win in the university, the court will know whether the PDP won or not. But that is the first time. This we are G5 members, according to my dog, integrity, man of integrity. Yes.  Now look at all the other governments, they lost even in their units. I keep telling people, I said PDP did not lose anything in society itself from the government. Because I'm not a party member, I'm not a member of any country party. But I said before now, even on your station, on several locations, that don't vote for past, vote for integrity. Not past. So you do not say... So that is actually full, as it must end. So I voted across party lines. But I can't say this is last year. It is not the party that will bring about good governance. Because in Nigeria, there is no ideology. But in civilized clans, you have ideology. So you can never be telling Nigeria that you are not part of the party's manifestation. So the party, talking of party in Nigeria, just a complete waste of time. I go for the individual, waste of your antecedents or my perception of this. And that was it. Even on your station, countless times. I said, please go for individual. Because when the rain will fall, it will fall on every roof. So in choosing, let us be kept. Now, in this case of PDP, they are lost. They have no clue, we are in charge of three senatorial businesses, lost in their unit. They could not be delivered. That's the result of their previous parties, the formed alliance. They could not be delivered. So it's of no use. So they really have no effect. Unless you talk of reverse this. Well, they call to decide who won in reverse it in the presidential election. Let the call decide that. So on the issue of their suspension, it came next. I just cannot understand the delight. But the leadership of the PDP lacks function. It lacks the courage. It was thinking of what would happen. Maybe if I do this, all of the consequences.  No human being on net is indispensable.  You will be surprised that this is where you go, that your child will come to the country. No human being on net is indispensable.  This one is. No, let us not do that. And that is the bane of our country. Because every child, if you look at it, what matters is impunity. Although I am against it. But it is their law. Because I would have also done the same thing to save my child. Well, it is their law. But if this has happened in Nigeria, nobody would have heard about it. You would have seen it in the press secretary shouting that right then. So they're telling you, well, deny all kinds of things. And you see that at worst, there will be no independent adjournments. But look at what's happening. That is the kind of system we want. Though that is suspended for the elections, I call for it. Before the elections. And the government will have said, dare them to suspend it. Yeah, he did dare them. And you remind me, you kept him there. I kept him and said what is going on. So as far as the PDP came late. And I'm not happy with the PDP leaders. Completely not happy. They are cowards. I'm very sorry to say. They are cowards. Well, I would have asked you. After election, you're coming to a suspect. After election, you're coming to a suspect. Because you believe that all votes will have been cast and you don't need anything. That's cowardice. You know, time would not permit me to ask you this question. Perhaps when next you come and you would answer the question if events have taken it. Whether you see this, whether you see this as the beginning of the end of the PDP as we know it. But you say you got to go. Not at all. Conflict is a functional interaction. And because man cannot not commit it. Man is going to commit. Resolution is what matters. All right. Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you, Tariah. Thank you so much for your time. Johnson, Argo, legal practitioner is still with us. We're going to go and break, take the news and come back. But Mr. Poonaba would not be able to join us because he has a to run. Thank you so much, Mr. Poonaba for your time and insight. Well, the program, the run up continues after this break. Stay with us. I'll come back to the concluding part of the run-up, 2023. I am mooring and I still have Johnson Argo legal practitioner as my guest. As I told you before, I went on that break, Opunabor in Quateria will not be able to continue with us on this segment. Hello, Johnson. Good to have you back. It's my pleasure. Thank you. All right. So, let's continue from where we stopped, the PDP and all that's going on, the suspensions, the disciplinary actions, long time coming, you see it as something that should have happened before now. Please, come again. I do get the question. All right. I'm talking about the drama going on, folding in the PDP camp, the suspensions, the disciplinary actions. Do you see it as something that should have happened before now, as alluded to by Opunabor? Actually, I think that that is their family business. I am not a member of the PDP, and I don't have sympathies whatsoever to them, especially considering that what the complaints that have been brought to the public is a question of impunity and blatant breach of the party's constitutional provisions. So the lawyer made things that rule of law should permit every factor of the society, including the subset of our democratic institutions, in this case, political parties. My thinking is that the impunity we see in the society didn't come from think that, right from the family groups, time unions, market associations, people who have had obligations to comply with rules might not comply with them if there are no consequences. And in the case of PDP, it is a political party who has just learned for power to control the entire government. My thinking is that such an institution or such an organization should be stickier for rule of law and comply with its own rules and constitution. And so when they do not comply with their own rules and constitution, as they all claim, they should not tell us to just move on. So and in my view, they are not qualified to complain to anybody at all. So if, for example, you say you are suspending people because they did anti-party activities, how do you measure anti-party activity? Is it by reference to what your constitution has said members should do? So the person who is attempting to apply the constitutional provisions of PDP now, where was he when PDP, the current people controlling PDP now, size fits the constitutional provisions of PDP? That's a big question for me. In my view, it's something that people should approach with clean hands. So if you are trying to apply a stick on people today because you say they have reached the constitution by campaigning for other people who are not PDP members, you should also apply the same big stick to yourself or to all the people that set the constitution of PDP to put somebody who is not supposed to be the PDP candidate by reason of PDP constitution. So it's a big situation, and if you continue to agree about it, we will keep going around around. So PDP should cry internally and resolve their problems internally, and if they choose to bring it to us, members of the society, we will judge them harshly. Well, it's already up to, it's out here now, public family problem or family issue or not. It's out there in the public space because it is a public family. All right? Now, one of the controversies that these actions have thrown up is the fact that governor of Riverside, Nisomuike, has not been suspended. He's not among those who are being disciplined, matter of fact, matter of fact, he has responded to all of this and said that it is the chairman, Iochia Aiu, of the party that should have been suspended and not the former governor of Akiti state, Ayodele Fayoshi. How do you respond to these controversies from the trusted governor? I'm saying that the governor of Riverside actually has a court case taking to restrain PDP from suspending or in any way in preferring his right of membership in the PDP. So until that case is decided, whether it is rightly or wrongly suited, it will be difficult for anybody to tamper with the rest of that, I mean the subject of that court case. So I will not discuss that direction. Oh, okay. So in other words, there is a legal umbrella shielding him from any kind of action from the party. So he has a court case saying that the party should not sanction him for a so-called anti-party activities or whatever, and that case has not been decided. So regarding Akiti's governor's suspension, he says openly that he doesn't care while listening to him some few days back when he was asked about suspension or no suspension or whatever. He claims he walks against the PDP and he's very proud of it. He doesn't regret it. So suspending him currently by the people he says and not also in breach of the constitution of PDP seems to me a useless venture because his soul is no longer in the PDP. Matter of fact, if I recall correctly, I saw him on national television distancing himself from the party even before the suspension came about. But how do you see the strength of the PDP with all that's happening right now? Do you see the strength dwindling from all these actions? PDP is the bigger mode in the workplace stage. If we look at it properly, the existing we look at rise and fall of powers, PDP is declining. The NMPP that took Kano is actually a faction of PDP. The level party that took the entire South East, most of South-South, some parts of North Central and even Lagos, unprecedentedly, used to be in PDP and if we look at the results announced by INEC, I'm not saying that that's the correct result, but using the result that is announced by INEC, we can see that all the, these two factions that I have just described, if they were with the main PDP, so-called, represented by Tico and Guba, they would have clearly won the election. If I just say, Marky and Wicked team are a faction of PDP, clearly or ghostfully say they worked for APC, so this election was contested PDP against PDP, obviously, and what do someone say when a house is divided against itself? It clearly has to fall. That's the way I see it, unless a miracle happens sometime to hold a party or a house in position, but we know that once a house begins to divide, it will be less than that, should they expect it to collapse. So you are saying that bearing any kind of miracle that PDP may just, this may just be the beginning of the end of that party? Absolutely, those are the one elections under the umbrella of PDP in this last election who have two options. They can now claim that a PDP is factionalized. For example, I'm not giving ideas, but we've seen this in the past. Somebody is said to have been suspended, and the next thing you see on the radio is he organizes a meeting and came to suspend every other person that is in the clique that suspended him. So that is a factionalization of the party, formal finalization of the party, and on the basis of that, they would be come to another party and retain their seats. I know that the courts have said that if, for example, you're a legislative assembly or a legislative, remember the legislative body and you want to take your seat on the flag of another party, once you become to the next party, you will lose your seat. But the court have also said that if you become because of factional activities, when there is no unit in your party, you will retain your seat. So PDP, their leash on the party or party members seem to me weak because quite a number of people seem to be genuinely agree. And those people who seem to be genuinely agree, come bound together and retain their seats. If I am to recommend PDP, my suggestion is to find out what exactly the grievance of all of these persons and see how they can politically resolve it. I don't see a legal root out of this crisis. It's a political issue, so they should sit down and see what they can give and take between themselves. I think that the promises they can exchange and assurances of keeping the promises that we impressed the various parties. Thank you so much, Johnson Argo, for your time, your insight with us on this program, even before today. And I'm saying this and speaking like this because we've come to the last episode, this very episode. Wow. With this program, I would have asked for an elongation if I was asked. No, but we have a similar program every morning called the Breakfast on this program. So that is another place to tune to. That's right. My thinking is that this program is even beginning because the court cases coming from the election petition tribunals are going to be very long. All of that will be handled on the breakfast, which comes up every morning on this station. I think 7 to 9 a.m. every morning, every day, Monday to Friday. So all of that is going to be everything we've been treating on the run-up, plus other issues will be treated on the breakfast. Thank you so much for your time. It's been so wonderful having you. It's been an amazing couple of months discussing issues on Nigerian politics and the 2023 elections. It's been a huge pleasure having you. The viewers always tune in to join the show. I want to say a big thank you to all our guests who have joined us virtually and in the studio. And to all the crew members who have worked on the show, to all the anchors, Nyamgo Agaji, De Bayo, or Loa Kei, we say a big thank you to you. And please stay tuned to Plus TV Africa to bring you various media contents for your view and pleasure. I am Maureen Menon-Wizigwe. See you next time.