Then standing by the side of the unconscious man he poured into his ear—speaking loudly and distinctly,—a few terse sentences. Not a muscle moved in the faces of those standing about the sleeper. Then Ai passed his hands lightly over his face, made a few upward passes, and turning to his companions, beckoned them to follow him from the room. Silently as they had come the group left the house and grounds, gained a waiting carriage and were driven rapidly away. In the shelter of the vehicle Charlie Vance spoke, “Is justice done?” he sternly queried.

“Justice will be done,” replied Ai’s soothing tones.

“Then I am satisfied.”

But Reuel spoke not one word.

* * *

One day not very long after this happening, the body of Aubrey Livingston was found floating in the Charles River at the very point where poor Molly Vance had floated in the tangled lily-bed. The mysterious command of Ai, “death by thine own hand,” whispered in his ear while under hypnotic influence, had been followed to the last letter.

Thus Aubrey had become his own executioner according to the ancient laws of the inhabitants of Telassar. Members of the royal family in direct line to the throne became their own executioners when guilty of the crime of murder.

* * *

Reuel Briggs returned to the Hidden City with his faithful subjects, and old Aunt Hannah. There he spends his days in teaching his people all that he has learned in years of contact with modern culture. United to Candace, his days glide peacefully by in good works; but the shadows of great sins darken his life, and the memory of past joys is ever with him. He views, too, with serious apprehension, the advance of mighty nations penetrating the dark, mysterious forests of his native land.

“Where will it stop?” he sadly questions. “What will the end be?”

But none save Omnipotence can solve the problem.

To our human intelligence these truths depicted in this feeble work may seem terrible,—even horrible. But who shall judge the handiwork of God, the Great Craftsman! Caste prejudice, race pride, boundless wealth, scintillating intellects refined by all the arts of the intellectual world, are but puppets in His hand, for His promises stand, and He will prove His words, “Of one blood have I made all races of men.”

(THE END.)

About the Author

PAULINE HOPKINS (1859–August 1930) was born in Portland, Maine, to a family involved in academics, politics, and social activism. She attended Girls High School in Boston, where she was brought to the notice of William Wells Brown—then considered the nation’s premier black novelist—by winning first place in a writing contest for her essay, “Evils of Intemperance and Their Remedy.”