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Updated: May 16, 2025
And then there were two forms in the doorway. A man and a woman. The man was Rhamda Avec, tall, immaculate, black clad and distinguished. The woman, Jerome was not certain that she was the same who opened the door or not; she was even more beautiful. She was laughing. Like her companion she was clad in black, a beautiful shimmering material which sparkled in the sun like the rarest silk.
He was conscious of a crushing blur of immensity, of a silent thundering within him then mental chaos and a stunned oblivion. It was all over. Chick opened his eyes to see the Jan throwing open the plate on the side of the compartment. Neither the soldier nor the Rhamda seemed to have noted Chick's daze. As for the Jan, his blue eyes were dancing with dare-devilry.
Now, Chick had been in the Blind Spot, conscious, but a short while. He knew that he was in the precise position that Rhamda Avec had occupied that morning on the ferry-boat. Chick recalled the pictures of the Lilliputian deer and the miniature kittens; yet he was immensely surprised.
I'll go straight to bed as soon as I finish reviving Ariadne; and when I wake up, we'll see who's who, friend Rhamda! I'm too exuberant to hold myself down to the job of telling what I've discovered. But it's got to be done. Here goes! I practically took my life in my hands when I first made connection.
Over his shoulders I could see the still open door that led into the street. A heavy form was looming through the opening; out of the corner of my eye I caught the lines of the form stepping out of the shadows it crossed the room and stood beside Hobart Fenton. It was Rhamda Avec! I leaped. The fury of a thousand conflicts and the exultation. For the glory of such moments it is well worth dying.
Jerome slipped from the taxi and spoke a few words to the driver. A moment later the two men were holding the house under surveillance. They did not have long to wait. The man called Rhamda had asked for fifteen minutes. At the stroke of the second the front door re-opened. Someone was laughing; a melodious enchanting laugh and feminine. A woman was speaking.
Why doesn't he make a clean breast of it? It would be much easier. He knows and you know that I am after Dr. Holcomb and Watson. I might even forego the secret. Would he release the doctor?" "No, Harry, he would not." "I see. If I gave up the ring it would be merely for my personal safety. I am a coward " "Oh," she said, "don't say that. You must give the ring to me not to the Rhamda.
What was the best and wisest proceeding? He called for the Geos. He told him what data he wanted. The Rhamda said that he could find everything in a library in that building, and inside a half-hour he returned with a pile of manuscripts. Left to himself, Chick found that he now had data relating to all the sciences, to religion, to education and political history and the law.
"Two minutes. Well, I'm betting on the young one. Too much soul. He's not dead; just weary." He was right. At exactly one hundred and twenty seconds the Rhamda closed his watch. He spoke something. Again the young man laughed. He lit a cigarette; from the flicker and jerk of the flame he was trembling. But he was still emphatic.
Reasonably enough, Geos, with some smattering of his superior's wisdom, should accept Watson in the same way. And then, the Jarados: at every moment his name had cropped up. Who was he? So far he had heard no word that might be construed as a clue. The great point, just now, was that the Rhamda Geos accepted him as a spirit, as the fact and substance promised by Avec. But where was the doctor?
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