Night came as a blessing¹ to Ruth, for the scenes of the early day had exhausted² her. At the very moment when David succumbed³ to her domination, her own strength began to fail. As for Connor, it was another story. The great dream which had come to him in far away Lukin, when he watched the little gray gelding win the horse race, was now verging⁴ toward a reality. The concrete accomplishment⁵ was at hand. Once in the world it was easy to see that David would become clay, molded by the touch of clever Ruth Manning, and then—it would be simply a matter of collecting the millions as they rolled in.  
But Ruth was tired. Only one thing sustained her, and that was the burning eagerness to humble⁶ this proud and selfish David of Eden. When she thought how many times she had been on the verge⁷ of open admiration⁸ and sympathy with the man, she trembled and grew cold. But through the fate of poor little Timeh, she thanked Heaven that her eyes had been opened.
 
She went to her room shortly after dinner, and she slept heavily until the first grayness of the morning. Once awake, in spite of the early hour, she could not sleep again, so she dressed and went into the patio⁹. Connor was already there, pacing restlessly. He had been up all night, he told her, turning over possibilities.
 
"It seems as though everything has worked out too much according to schedule," he said. "There'll be a break. Something will happen and smash everything!"
 
"Nothing will happen," she assured him calmly.
 
He took her hand in his hot fingers.
 
"Partner"—he began, and then stopped as though he feared to let himself go on.
 
"Where is he?" she asked.
 
"On his mountain, waiting for the sun, I guess. He told the servants a while ago that he was leaving to-day. Great excitement. They're all chattering¹⁰ about it down in the servants' house."
 
"Is no one here?"
 
"Not a soul, I guess."
 
"Then—we're going into that Room of Silence!"
 
"Take that chance now? Never in the world! Why, Ruth, if he saw us in there, or guessed we'd been there, he'd probably murder us both. You know how gentle he is when he gets well started?"
 
"But how will he know? No one is here, and David won't be back from the mountain for a long time if he waits for the sun."
 
"Just stop thinking about it, Ruth."
 
"I'll never stop as long as I live, unless I see it. I've dreamed steadily¹¹ about that room all night."
 
"Go alone, then, and I'll stay here."
 
She went resolutely¹² across the patio, and Connor, following with an exclamation¹³, caught her arm roughly at the door.
 
"You aren't serious?"
 
"Deadly serious!"
 
The glitter of her dark eyes convinced him more than words.
 
"Then we'll go together. But make it short!"
 
They swept the patio with conscience-stricken glances, and then opened the door. As they did so, the ugly face of Joseph appeared at the entrance to the patio, looked and hastily was withdrawn¹⁴.
 
"This is like a woman," muttered Connor, as they closed the door with guilty softness behind them. "Risk her life for a secret that isn't worth a tinker's damn!"
 
For the room was almost empty, and what was in it was the simplest of the simple. There was a roughly made table in the center. Five chairs stood about it. On the table was a book, and the seven articles made up the entire furnishings. Connor was surprised to see tears in the eyes of Ruth.
 
"Don't you see?" she murmured in reply to his exclamation. "The four chairs for the four dead men when David sits down in his own place?"
 
"Well, what of that?"
 
"What's in the book?"
 
"Are you going to wait to see that?"
 
"Open the door a little, Ben, and then we can hear if any one comes near."
 
He obeyed and came back, grumbling¹⁵. "We can hear every one except David. That step of his wouldn't break eggs."
 
He found the girl already poring over the first page of the old book, on which there was writing in a delicate hand.
 
She read aloud: "The story of the Garden of Eden, who made it and why it was made. Told without error by Matthew."
 
"Hot stuff!" chuckled¹⁶ Connor. "We got a little time before the sun comes up. But it's getting red in the east. Let's hear some more."
 
There was nothing imposing¹⁷ about the book. It was a ledger¹⁸ with a half-leather binding¹⁹ such as storekeepers use for accounts. Time had yellowed the edges of the paper and the ink was dulled. She read:
 
"I............