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"Nothing; except, perhaps the prophecy of the Jarados. We now know the whole world knows that we are fast approaching the Day of Life." "Of course; the Day of Life." Watson decided upon another chance shot. "It has to do with the marriage of the two queens!" "You DO know!" cried the Rhamda joyously. "Tell me!" "No; it is I who am asking the questions." Watson's mind was working like lightning.
Watson's voice was steady as stone. "The great Jarados himself!" Once more Watson had taken the kind of chance he preferred a slender one. He took the chance that these people, however occult and advanced they might be, were still human enough to build their prophecy out of an old foundation. If he were right, then the person of the Jarados would be inviolable.
"The Palace av light, sor. Tis th' home av th' Jarados. 'twas held always holy by th' Thomahlians; no man dared go within miles av it; since the Jarados was here, t'ousands of years ago, no one at all has been inside av it. "But the Senestro knew that th' doctor was th' real Jarados, at least he t'ought so; an' he wasna afraid o' him. He's na coward, th' Senestro.
With that he stepped gracefully, superbly from the dais beneath his throne. He bowed to the Aradna, to Geos, to Chick and to the assembly and was gone. The blue guard followed in silence. The rest of the ordeal was soon done. Nothing more was said about the Jarados, nor of what the Bar Senestro had brought up.
The June Bug has been sent up many times, weighted with ballast; the plug was abstracted by clockwork; and in fifty-eight seconds she returned through the open end of the drone, without a hitch. It was beautiful. I have always envied her that plunge. And now I shall have the chance, with the hand of the Jarados as my guide and protector!"
The chosen of a line of kings. First there shall be one, and then there shall be two; and the two shall stay but the one shall return. The false ones. Them ye shall slay! The four footed: The call to humility, sacrifice and devotion, whom ye shall hold in reverence even as you hold me, the Jarados. And on the last day of all I, the Jarados! Beware ye of sacrilege!
There was not long to wait. The days passed. The palace was full of Rhamdas, summoned by Dr. Holcomb, who, as the Jarados himself, was now issuing orders concerning the great day, the last of the sixteen days, now very close at hand; the day which the Rhamdas constantly alluded to as "the Day of Judgment." The Senestro went unmolested.
He put th' doctor in th' Jarados' home! Only th' Prophecy worries him at all." At last Watson was touching firm ground. Things were beginning to link up the Senestro, the professor, the Prophecy of the Jarados. "Well, sor, we Bars have kept th' ould doctor prisoner there iver since he come, wit' none save me to give him a wee bit word av comfort. But it dinna hurt th' old gent.
"Now let this stranger describe the Jarados. He says that he had seen him; that he is the Prophet's prospective son-in-law. Good! Let him describe the Jarados to us! "Then open the Leaf! If he speaks true, we shall know him to be from the Jarados. If he fail, then I shall claim him for purposes of my own." Whatever the motives of the Senestro, he surely had the genius of quick decision.
Leaning forward, Chick rubbed his eyes and looked again. It was the bust of Professor Holcomb. Chick gasped. Of all that assemblage Rhamdas, guards, the occupants of the two thrones he himself was the most astounded. Was the great professor in actual fact the true Jarados? If not, how explain this miracle? But if he were, how to explain the duality, the identity?
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