A Prince of the Captivity (Unabridged). Buchan John

have four dull years to forget. It’s all perfectly natural, I suppose, but rather foolish. Half the world is destroyed, so we caper among the ruins. You don’t seem as shocked as I expected.”

      “I’m not in the least shocked,” was the answer. “I’m only wondering how long it will last. We must pull up our socks pretty soon, or the rest of the world will go.”

      Late that night the two sat in Stannix’s rooms.

      “Well, you’ve had your look-round,” the host said. “I take it that to-night was the last lap. I hope I took you to the right places. What do you make of it all?”

      “Nothing very clear.” Adam had acquired a trick of speaking very slowly and softly, as if words were precious and had to be respectfully treated—a common thing with men who for a long season have had to forgo their own language. “There must be a time of confusion—another year at least, I should say. Everybody is self-conscious and egotistical. Creevey to-night was not trying to solve an economic problem, but to show how clever he was. The lads at the Pegasus have had too much in the way of duty and want to make pets of themselves. The dancing people were not natural—they were all trying to make-believe and play a part. That is going on for a little while till the ground begins to quake under them. I’m not wanted yet, I think.

      “And I’m not ready myself,” he went on. “I’ve been coming to realise that for some time, and now I’m sure. First of all, I’m not fit enough… Oh yes, I’m fitter than you, far fitter than most people, but I’m not in the hard training I should be in. Today I couldn’t make my body do what it ought to do. I want some good, tough, physical toil.”

      “Anything else?” Stannix asked. He smiled as he looked at Adam’s lean face, his frame without an ounce of needless flesh, and the alert poise of his head.

      “Yes, I want a spell of quiet. You see, I have been living for four years in a circus. It hasn’t damaged my nerves in the ordinary sense— they’re under pretty good control—but it has made my mind airless and stuffy. I want to get some sort of poise again, and that means being alone. What I need is space and silence—frozen silence.”

      “How are you going to find it?”

      “I’m on the road to it. I’ve been busy for weeks making arrangements with the Danish Government and with his American relatives. The day after tomorrow I sail for Iceland. I’m going to find Falconet.”