The Tocsin! Where was she? What had happened? Had
she----no, he dared not let himself believe what a brutal logic told him
now he should believe. He would not! He could not! And yet since that
night when her note had come, the note that had been so full of a glad
spontaneity, so full of _victory_--"It is the beginning of the end ...
The way is clearing ... I am very happy tonight, and I wanted to tell
you so"--since that night there had been no word from her.
No, that was not literally true. There _had_ been word from her; but,
rather than having brought hope and reassurance to him, it had only
increased his fear and anxiety. That night, after a return to the
Sanctuary, where, in lieu of the character of Larry the Bat, he had
resumed his own personality again, be had hurried to his home to await
the expected word from her that would tell him her success, which her
note had indicated was to be looked for at any moment, had been
achieved. The night, however, had brought forth nothing; but in the
morning, amongst the mail which old Jason, his butler, had handed him,
had been a letter from her. It had been written evidently in leisure,
and evidently prior to the hurried little note that happiness, a surge
of joy, a gladness and a hope whose share she could not hold back from
him, had undoubtedly prompted her to write; it had been born out of
impulse, that note, an impulse due, apparently, to a sudden turn in the
brave fight she was waging which seemed to place the final victory
almost within her grasp.
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