“I scarcely know. We went up to play with the dog. It was unwilling to leave the place, and Aradna teasingly tried to push her off on to the steps. She succeeded, but—well, it was all over that quick. The Aradna was gone!”

But the Spot had by this time lost a good deal of its terror. Knowing what was on the other side, and who, made a great difference. As the doctor said later in a private consultation with Chick and Harry:

“It's not so bad. That is, if Hobart Fenton is at work there. I think he is. Really, I only regret that we didn't know of this beforehand; we could have sent a message through to him.”

And the professor went on to explain what he meant. At the time he spoke, it was twenty-four hours after the Aradna's going; another twenty-four hours would see the evening of the Last Day—the sixteenth of the sacred Days of Life—what the Rhamdas alluded to as “the Day of Judgment.” And the Mahovisal was a seething mass of humanity, all bent upon seeing the fulfillment of their highest hopes.

“Bear in mind that if the Spot should not open at the last moment, you and I are done for. We will be self-condemned 'False Ones'; our lives will not last one minute after midnight tomorrow night if we fail to get through!

“That Prophecy means EVERYTHING to the Thomahlians. There was a time when they accepted it on faith; now it is an intellectual conviction with every last one of them. And one and all look forward to a new and glorious life beyond the Spot—in the occult world—our world!

“Now, the ticklish part of the job will be to open the Spot just long enough to permit us to get through, yet prevent the whole Prophecy from coming to pass. We've got to get through, together with that black case of mine, and then shut the door in the face of all Thomahlia!”

Nothing more was said on the subject until late the following afternoon, as the doctor, Harry, and Chick sat down to a light meal. They ate much as if nothing whatever was in the wind. From where they sat, in one part of a wing of the temple, they could look out into the crowded streets, in which were packed untold numbers of pilgrims, all pressing towards the great square plaza in front of the temple. No guards were to be seen; the solemnity of the occasion was sufficient to keep order. But the terrific potentiality of that semi-fanatical host did not cause the doctor's voice to change one iota.

“There is no telling what may happen,” he said. “For my own part I shall not venture near the Spot of Life until just at the end. I shall remain in the chamber underneath.

“But you two ought to show yourselves immediately after sundown. Certain ancient writings indicate it. You, and the Nervina, will have to mount the stair to the Spot, and remain in sight until midnight—until the end.

“So we must be prepared for accidents.” He took some papers from his pocket, and selected two, and gave one to each of his pupils. “Here are the details of what must be done. In case only one of us gets through, it will be enough.”

“But—how can these be of any use, on such short notice?” Harry asked.

“Cudgel your brains a bit, gentlemen,” he chided good-humouredly. “You will soon see my drift. This is one of those occasions when the psychic elements involved are such that, without doubt, it were best if you reacted naturally to whatever may happen.

“Now you will note that I have made a drawing of the Blind Spot region; also certain calculations which will explain themselves.

“Moreover, I have written out the combination to my laboratory safe in my house in Berkeley. The green stone is there. Bertha will help, as soon as she understands that it is my wish; no explanation will be needed.

“You may leave the rest to me, young gentlemen. Act as through you had no notion that I was down below the Spot. I shall be merely experimenting a bit with that circle of jewels, to see if the phenomena which affected the Aradna cannot be repeated. I fancy it was not mere accident, but rather the working of a 'period.'”

He said no more about this, except to comment that he hoped to get into direct communication with Hobart Fenton before midnight should arrive. However, he did say, in an irrelevant sort of manner:

“Oh, by the way—do either of you happen to recall which direction the house at Chatterton Place faces?”

“North,” replied Harry and Chick, almost in the same breath.

“Ah yes. Well, the temple faces south. Can you remember that?”

They thought they could. The rest of the meal was eaten without any discussion. Just as they arose, however, the doctor observed:

“It may be that Hobart Fenton has got to come through. I wish I knew more about his mentality; it's largely a question of psychic influence—the combined, resultant force of the three material gems, and the three degrees of psychic vibration as put forth by him and you two. We shall see.

“Something happened today—the Geos told me about it—which may link up Hobart very definitely. It was about one o'clock when one of the temple pheasants began to behave very queerly up on the great stair. It had been walking around on the snow-stone, and flying a bit; then it started to hop down the steps.

“About sixteen steps down, Geos says the pheasant stopped and began to flutter frantically, as though some unseen person were holding it. Suddenly it vanished, and as suddenly reappeared again. It flew off, unharmed. I can't quite account for it, but—well, we'll see!”

He spoke no more, but led the way out into the entrance to the wing. There they waited only a moment or two, before the Nervina and her retinue arrived. Without delay a start was made for the great black stairway.

The doctor alone remained behind.

There was a guard-lined lane through the crowd, allowing the Nervina and the rest access to the foot of the steps. Reaching that point she paused for a look around.

The sun had just gone down; the artificial lights of the temple had not yet been turned on. Overhead, the great storm-cloud hung portentously, even more ominous than in the brighter light. The huge waterspout columns, the terrific size of the auditorium, were none the less impressive for the incalculable horde that filled every bit of floor space. At the front of the building the archway gave a glimpse of the vastly greater throng waiting outside.

But all was quiet, with the silence of reverence and supreme expectation.

The long flight of stairs was lined on either side, from bottom to top, with the Rhamdas. On the landing there stood only two of the three chairs that Chick had seen on the previous occasion. The green one had been brought down and placed in the centre of an open spot just at the foot of the stairs.

In this chair sat the Bar Senestro. Deployed about him, at a respectful distance, was a semi-circle of the Bars, many hundreds in number. Behind the Bars, separating them from the crowds at their backs, were grouped the crimson and blue guardsmen. Among them, no doubt, were the Jan Lucar and the MacPherson, but Chick could locate neither.

The Nervina, taking Harry's arm, ascended the steps. Chick followed, with the Rhamda Geos at his side. At the top of the flight the Nervina was escorted to one of the chairs, while Chick placed the Geos in the other.

It left the two Californians on their feet, to move around to whatever extent seemed commensurate with dignity. Chick drew Harry aside.

“What do you suppose,” said Chick, indicating the handsome, confident figure in the chair at the base of the stairs—“what do you suppose friend Senestro is thinking about?”

Harry frowned. “You know him better than I do. You don't think he has reformed?”

“Not on your life; not the Bar. He's merely adjusted his plans to the new situation. He sees that the Prophecy is likely to be fulfilled; so, he counts on being the first to get through, after the Nervina. Then, whether the rest of the Thomahlia follows or not—he calls himself the divinely appointed leader now, I understand—he will get through and marry the two Queens anyhow!”

Perhaps it was because the crowd was so terrifically large. Or, there may have been something in the destiny of things that would not permit the chief actors to feel nervous. Certain it is that neither of the two men experienced the least stage fright. Had they been on display before a crowd one-tenth the size, anywhere else, both would have been ill at ease. This was different—enormously so.

No longer was there any circulation in the crowd. People remained in their places now, just as they expected the end to find them. Chick and Harry marvelled at their composure, strangely in contrast with the ceaseless activities of the temple pheasants darting everywhere overhead.

Suddenly Harry remarked:

“I've got an idea, Chick! It's this: How does the professor expect to send a message to Hobart?” Chick could not guess.

But already Harry had taken his sheet of instructions from his pocket, and was rolling it into a compact pellet. Then he went to Queen, and with a ribbon borrowed from the Nervina, tied the message tightly to the dog's collar.

“Hobart will be certain to see it,” said he. “I wonder if the doctor's figured it out yet?”

“He's playing with a tremendous force,” observed Chick, thoughtfully. He reached out and touched the snow-stone with his foot, just as he had done before, and fancied that he could feel that electric thrill even through the leather of his shoes. “Still, it's worth any risk he may be taking down in that chamber. If only he could send Queen through! Hobart—”

He never finished the sentence. He staggered, thrown off his balance by reason of the fact that he had been resting the weight of one foot on the stone and—it moved!

Moved—shifted about its axis, just as it had done forty-eight hours previously, when the Aradna had dropped through.

And Chick had only a flash of a second for a glimpse of the startled faces of Harry, the Nervina and the Geos, the huge multitude below the stair, Queen on the other side, and the fateful Prophecy on the walls above him, before—

A figure came into existence at his side. It was that of a powerfully built man, on whose wrists were curious red circles. And Chick shouted in a great voice:

“Hobart!”

And then came blackness.