before. "You know that she wouldn't take me seriously."
"Just so. Nobody will take seriously the things we are beginning to understand, you and I. We have to fight alone—but we'll win." He began to speak more brightly. "When is the play supposed to have its first performance?"
"Sometime after the middle of July. I've heard Varduk say as much several times, though he did not give the exact date."
Pursuivant grew actually cheerful. "That means that we have three weeks or so. Something will happen around that time—presumably on opening night. If time was not an element, he would not have defended her on her first night here."
I felt somewhat reassured, and we returned from our stroll in fairly good spirits.
Varduk again spoke cordially to Pursuivant, and invited him to stay to dinner. "I must ask that you leave shortly afterward," he concluded the invitation. "Our rehearsals have something of secrecy about them. You won't be offended if"
"Of course not," Pursuivant assured him readily, but later the judge found a moment to speak with me. "Keep your eyes open," he said earnestly. "He feels that I, in some degree familiar with occult matters, might suspect or even discover something wrong about the play. We'll talk later about the things you see."
The evening meal was the more pleasant for Judge Pursuivant's high-humored presence. He was gallant to the ladies, deferential to Varduk, and witty to all of us. Even the pale, haunted face of our producer relaxed in a smile once or twice, and when the meal was over and Pursuivant was ready to go, Varduk accompanied him to the door, speaking graciously the while.
"You will pardon me if I see you safely to the road. It is no more than evening, yet I have a feeling"
"And I have die same feeling," said Pursuivant, not at all heavily. "I appreciate your offer of protection."
Varduk evidently suspected a note of mockery. He paused. "There are things, Judge Pursuivant," he said, "against which ordinary protection would not suffice. You have borne arms, I believe, yet you know that they will not always avail."
They had come to the head of the front stairs, leading down to the lobby of the theater. The others at table were chattering over a second cup of coffee, but I was straining my ears to hear what the judge and Varduk were saying.
"Arms? Yes, I've borne them," Pursuivant admitted. "Oddly enough, I'm armed now. Should you care to see?"
He lifted his malacca walking-stick in both hands, grasping its shank and the handle. A twist and a jerk, and it came apart, revealing a few inches of metal. Pursuivant drew forth, as from a sheath, a thin, gleaming blade.
"Sword cane!" exclaimed Varduk admiringly. He bent for a closer look.
"And a singularly interesting one," elaborated Pursuivant. "Quite old, as you can see for yourself."
"Ah, so it is," agreed Varduk. "I fancy you had it put into the cane?"
"I did. Look at the inscription."
Varduk peered. "Yes, I can make it out, though it seems worn." He pursed his lips, then read aloud, very slowly: "Sic pereant omnes inimici tui, Domine. It sounds like Scripture."
"That's what it is, Mr. Varduk," Pursuivant was saying blandly. "The King James Version has it: 'So let all thine enemies perish, O Lord.' It's from
