"Where I go, I must go alone.
Farewell, dear friend! We will drink the toast we drank our last night in your rooms at Magdalen.

That Sanscrit man translated it for us: 'May each find what he seeks!' We must follow our star." Dominey laughed a little bitterly.

He pointed to a light glowing fitfully in the bush.
"My will-o'-the-wisp," he muttered recklessly, "leading where I shall follow--into the swamps!" A few minutes later Dominey threw himself upon his couch, curiously and unaccountably drowsy.

Von Ragastein, who had come in to wish him good night, stood looking down at him for several moments with significant intentness.

Then, satisfied that his guest really slept, he turned and passed through the hanging curtain of dried grasses into the next banda, where the doctor, still fully dressed, was awaiting him.