Hall.  Immediately inside this stood the same Chief who had received us in the former Hall; and as we stood at the door, stretching forth his left hand, he spoke, or rather chanted, what, by the rhythmical sequence of the words, by the frequent recurrence of alliteration and irregular rhyme, was evidently a formula committed to the verse of the Martial tongue:  a formula, like all those of the Order, never written, but handed down by memory, and therefore, perhaps, cast in a shape which rendered accurate remembrance easier and more certain.

  “Ye who, lost in outer night,
   Reach at last the Source of Light,
   Ask ye in that light to dwell? 
   None we urge and none repel;
   Opens at your touch the door,
   Bright within the lamp of lore. 
   Yet beware!  The threshold passed,
   Fixed the bond, the ball is cast. 
   Failing heart or faltering feet
   Find nor pardon nor retreat. 
   Loyal faith hath guerdon given
   Boundless as the star-sown Heaven;
   Horror fathomless and gloom
   Rayless veil the recreant’s doom. 
   Warned betimes, in time beware—­Freely
   turn, or frankly swear.”

“What am I to swear?” I asked.

A voice on my left murmured in a low tone the formula, which I repeated, Eveena accompanying my words in an almost inaudible whisper—­

  “Whatsoe’er within the Shrine
   Eyes may see or soul divine,
   Swear we secret as the deep,
   Silent as the Urn to keep. 
   By the Light we claim to share,
   By the Fount of Light, we swear.”

As these words were uttered, I became aware that some change had taken place at the further end of the Hall.  Looking up, the dark background had disappeared, and under a species of deep archway, behind the seats of the Chiefs, was visible a wall diapered in ruby and gold, and displaying in various interwoven patterns the several symbols of the Zinta.  Towards the roof, exactly in the centre, was a large silver star, emitting a light resembling that which the full moon sheds on a tropical scene, but far more brilliant.  Around this was a broad golden circle or band; and beneath, the silver image of a serpent—­perfectly reproducing a typical terrestrial snake, but coiled, as no snake ever coils itself, in a double circle or figure of eight, with the tail wound around the neck.  On the left was a crimson shield or what seemed to be such, small, round, and swelling in the centre into a sharp point; on the right three crossed spears of silver with crimson blades pointed upward.  But the most remarkable object—­immediately filling the interval between the seats of the Chiefs, and carved from a huge cubic block of emerald—­was a Throne, ascended on each side by five or six steps, the upper step or seat extending nearly across the whole some two feet below the surface, the next forming a footstool thereto.  Above this was a canopy, seemingly self-supported, of circular form.  A