exertion of my purely professional skill, but ... as I have told
you already ... I have done absolutely nothing. Your fate is, as
it has always been, in your own hands. You sought me of your own
accord ... you used me as an instrument, an unwilling instrument,
remember! ... whereby to break open the prison doors of your
chafed, and fretting spirit,--and the end of it all is that you
depart from hence tomorrow of your own free-will and choice, to
fulfill the appointed tryst made with you, as you believe, by a
phantom in a vision. In brief"--here he spoke more slowly and with
marked emphasis--"you go to the field of Ardath to solve a
puzzling problem ... namely, as to whether what we call life is
not a Dream--and whether a Dream may not perchance be proved
Reality! In this enterprise of yours I have no share--nor will I
say more than this ... God speed you on your errand!"

He held out his hand--Alwyn grasped it, looking earnestly
meanwhile at the fine intellectual face, the clear pathetic eyes,
the firm yet sensitive mouth, on which there just then rested a
serious yet kindly smile.

"What a strange man you are, Heliobas!" he said impulsively ... "I
wish I knew more about you!"

Heliobas gave him a friendly glance.

"Wish rather that you knew more about yourself"--he answered
simply--"Fathom your own mystery of being--you shall find none
deeper, greater, or more difficult of comprehension!"

Alwyn still held his hand, reluctant to let it go. Finally