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Updated: May 20, 2025
She is beautiful; too beautiful for man. I've quit trying." "Is she Rhamda's wife?" His eyes lit fire. "No!" "Do you love her?" He went blank again; but at last he spoke slowly. "No, I don't love her. What's the use? She's not for me. I did; but I learned better. I was after the professor and the Blind Spot. She " Again that look of haunted pursuit. He glanced about the room.
What I want to know is, just how well prepared you are to receive me?" "Then you come from the Jarados!" "Perhaps." "What do you know about him?" "This: someone should have preceded me! The fact and the substance-you were to have it inside three days! It has been several hundred times the space allotted! Is it not so?" The Rhamda's eyes were pin-pointed with eagerness. "Then it IS true!
As for the rest, that's up to you! You've got to get yourself on the Rhamda's trail as soon as you can, and camp there! The first chance you get, ransack his room and belongings, and bring me every bit of data you find. Between him and the ring, the truth ought to come out." "All right. But don't forget that " pointing to the unexplained spot on the wood of the doorway.
You are a sort of priesthood." "No. The priesthood is below us. The priests take what orders we choose to give, and are purely " "Superstitious?" The Rhamda's eyes snapped, just a trifle. "Not at all, my dear sir! They are good, sincere men.
The wisdom of the Rhamda Avec told that the day approaches; he had opened the Spot of Life and gone through it; but he had NOT sent the fact and the substance." Watson smiled. There was just enough superstition, it seemed, beneath all the Rhamda's wisdom to make him tractable. However, Chick asked: "Tell me: as a learned man, as a Rhamda, do you believe in the prophecy implicitly?" "Yes, my lord.
Except for the incident just related, when several pints of very real fluids were somehow "materialised" at a spot ten feet below where they had vanished, nothing worth recording occurred during the first seven days of our stay at Chatterton Place. Seemingly nothing was to come of the Rhamda's warning.
In about a half hour a car drew up at the curb. I stepped to the window. It was the car that had tracked the Rhamda's. The stubby individual stepped out; without ceremony he ran up the steps and opened the door. It was a bit disconcerting, I think, for both. He was plain and blunt and honest. "Well," he said, "where's Watson? Who are you? What do you want?"
Both the Geos and the Jan smiled. But the Rhamda's voice was very sure as he replied: "If you were false, my lord, I would slay you myself." They were very near the Mahovisal now. Below was the unmistakable opalescence, somehow produced by powerful illumination, as intense as sunlight itself. The red dot was almost above the black square on the lighted chart.
As I spoke the last word my gaze was fixed on the Rhamda's eyes. He, on the other hand, was looking towards Ariadne. And at the very instant an expression, as of alarm and sorrow, swept into the man's face. My glance jumped to Ariadne. Her eyes were closed, her face suffused; she seemed to be suffocating. She gave a queer little sound, half gasp and half cry.
What was more, he could not understand such a queer assumption on the Rhamda's part. Why had he seemed to WANT Chick a ghost? Watson was natural, human, embodied, just like the Rhamda. This was scarcely his idea of a phantom's life. Most certainly, the two of them were men, nothing else; if one was a wraith, so was the other. But how to account for it? Again he thought of Rhamda Avec.
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