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Updated: June 16, 2025
It was one of the Rhamdas. He had in his hand a small metal clover, of the design of the Jarados. "What do I do?" asked Watson. "This," said the Rhamda, "was sent to you by one of the Bars." "By a Bar! What does it mean?" The other shook his head. "It was sent to you by one who wished it to be known by us that he is your friend, even though a Bar."
His face was even more familiar, but I could not place him. His lips were set; in their grim line determination; whatever his exhaustion there was still a will. Somehow one had a respect for this weak one; he was not a mere weakling. Yet I was not so sure that he was not afraid of the Rhamda. He spoke to the waiter. The Rhamda began talking.
He turned to the Rhamda Geos with a new question: "This Rhamda Avec was he a man like yourself?" The other brightened again, and asked in return: "Then you have seen him!" "I I do not know," answered Watson, caught off his guard. "But the name is familiar. I don't remember well. My mind is vague and confused. I recall a world, a wonderful world it was from which I came, and a great many people.
"I think we shall be followed." And I was right; in a few minutes there were two cars dogging our wheel-tracks. I had no doubt concerning the Rhamda; but I couldn't understand the other. At No. 288 Chatterton Place we stopped and I alighted. The Rhamda's car passed, then the other. Neither stopped. Both disappeared round the corner. I took the numbers; then I went into the house.
"All I can assure you is that she will not die immediately. From the general state of her health, she will live at least seventy-two hours. After that you must be prepared for the worst at any moment." I turned away quickly, so that he could not see my face. What an awful situation! Unless we could somehow lay hands on the Rhamda I hunted up Jerome.
After a moment the Rhamda continued: "Is it not so? Am I not right? You are surely out of the occult, my dear sir. You are a spirit!" It took Chick wholly by surprise. He had been ready to deal with anything but this. It was unreal, weird, impossible. And yet, why not? The professor had set out to remove forever the screen that had hitherto shrouded the shadow: but what had he revealed?
God knows I am worthless enough. I'll take it up. It may give me a chance to engage with this famous Rhamda." "Be careful of Rhamda, Harry. And above all don't let him have the ring." "Why?" "Because. Now listen. I'm not laying this absolutely, understand. Nevertheless the facts all point in one direction. Hold the ring. Somewhere in that lustre lies a great secret; it controls the Blind Spot.
I looked up and down the street. "Didn't you see him? Harry! Didn't you see him? It was Rhamda Avec!" I had seen no one; that is to notice; I did not know the Rhamda. Neither did he. "The Rhamda? You don't know him." Hobart was puzzled. "No," he said; "I do not; but it was he, just as sure as I am a fat man." I whistled. I recalled the tale that was now a legend.
Now she stirred and sighed, and was about to turn her eyes from the Rhamda to the ring when he spoke again; this time in a voice as sharp as a steel blade: "I do not enjoy being misunderstood, much less being misrepresented, Mr. Fenton.
For when the Blind Spot closed that night at 288 Chatterton Place, there came once more the deep, solemn peal of the Bell of the Jarados. Were this account merely a work of fiction, it would harmonise things so as to have no unaccountables in it. As it is, the present writers will have to make this quite clear: It is not known why the Rhamda Avec failed to show himself at the crucial moment.
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