table. "Do you know that?" he asked, huskily, for he was moved. But
Heldon only nodded dazedly. Pierre continued: "I was to have met Tom
Liffey here--to-night. He is not here. You hoped--I suppose--to see
your wife in your--home. She is not there. He left a word on paper for
me. I have torn it up. Writing is the enemy of man. But I know where
he is gone. I know also where your wife has gone."

Heldon's face was of a hateful paleness. . . . They passed out into
the night.

"Where are you going?" Heldon said.

"To God's Playground, if we can get there."

"To God's Playground? To the glacier-top? You are mad."

"No, but he and she were mad. Come on." Then he whispered something,
and Heldon gave a great cry, and they plunged into the woods.

In the morning the people of Little Goshen, looking towards the glacier,
saw a flag (they knew afterwards that it was crimson) flying on it. Near
it were two human figures. A miner, looking through a field-glass, said
that one figure was crouching by the flag-staff, and that it was a woman.
The other figure near was a man. As the morning wore on, they saw upon a
crag of ice below the sloping glacier two men looking upwards towards the
flag. One of them seemed to shriek out, and threw up his hands, and made
as if to rush forward; but the other drew him back.

Heldon knew what revenge and disgrace may be at their worst. In vain he
tried to reach God's Playground. Only one man knew the way, and he was