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Updated: May 16, 2025
"The Rhamda!" "Yes. The Rhamda Geos." The woman left him. For a while Chick reflected upon what she had said. In full rush of returning vigour his mind was working clearly and with analytical exactness. For the first time he noticed a heaviness in the air, overladen, pregnant.
The Jan Lucar spoke to the Geos: "We had best take the June Bug of the Rhamda Avec." Watson thought it best to say nothing, show nothing. The Jan ran up to one of the glistening affairs, and without the slightest noise he spun it gracefully around, running it out into the centre of the mosaic floor. "I presume," apologised the Geos, "that you have much finer aircraft in your world." Aircraft!
The next development would be another and triumphant call from the Rhamda, and this time we would have to give up the gem to him if we were to save Ariadne. The game was up. But instead of taking the matter philosophically, I worried about it all night. I told myself again and again that I was foolish to think about something that couldn't be helped. Why not forget it, and go to sleep?
As far as he could see, under and past the fourteen great pillars and right up to the far wall, the floor was a vast carpet of humanity. It was become dark. Presently a new kind of light began to glow far overhead, gradually increasing in strength until the whole place was suffused with a sun-like illumination. The Rhamda Geos began to speak. "In the last day, in the Day of Life.
The place was full of beauty. In the back of my mind blurred the image of Rhamda. I had never seen him; but I had read the description. I wondered absently at the persistence. I have said that I do not believe in fate. I repeat it. Man should control his own destiny. A great man does. Perhaps that is it. I am not great. Certainly it was circumstance.
She was wonderful; she was beautiful; she was pure. Was it merely a subtle act for the Rhamda? I could still hear Watson's voice ringing out of the Blind Spot; "Hold the ring! Hold the ring!" I could not be false to my friend. "Tell me first," I asked. "Who is this Rhamda? What is he? Is he a man?" "No." Not a man! I remembered Watson's words: "A phantom!" How could it be?
But the effect of his words upon the Rhamda and the nurse told him that, inadvertently, he had struck a keynote. Both started, especially the woman. Watson took note of this in particular, because of the ingrained acceptance of the feminine in matter of belief. "What do you know?" was her eager interruption. "You have seen the Jarados?"
If you do repent, just follow these instructions" laying a card on the table "and I will see what I can do for you. I wish you all good night." And with that, pausing only to make a courtly bow to Charlotte, Rhamda Avec turned and walked deliberately, dignifiedly from the room, while the two men and a woman stared helplessly after him and allowed him to go in peace.
Only a man would act like that, and a crude one. I didn't know then the nerve of the Rhamda. There was no doubt that I was being shadowed. To make certain, I took the by-streets and meandered by a devious route to the station. There was no question; one and two they followed. I knew the Rhamda; but who was the other?
"It means my life, professor, and the subsequent success of our experiment. A few details, a few minutes. Perhaps if we hurry we can get back in time." The doctor glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes for the train, twenty minutes for the boat, ten minutes; that's an hour, two hours. These details? Have you any idea how long, Rhamda?" "Perhaps not more than fifteen minutes."
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