In the night, at early dawn, at odd moments of his eternal quest, the curtain of his mind would rise on that unforgettable scene--the cliffs, the rocks, the darkling outline of Flint House, with a feeble beam of light slanting down from the upstairs window at the back which looked out on the sea.

Then the gush of light from the open door, and her shape stealing forth into the darkness, followed by another--Thalassa's.

And then, the final phase--the desolate house, the wind rushing noisily along dark passages, the dead form of Robert Turold in the room upstairs.

What did these things mean, and what was to be the end?
His hope was that Sisily could reveal something which would furnish the key to the enigma of that night's events.

From her lips he might learn enough to guide him to the hidden truth, and save them both.