“You trust me then, absolutely?” he said, in a tone of some little surprise.

“In trusting you,” I replied, “I trust the Zinta.  I am tolerably sure to be safe in hands recommended by them.”

“You are right,” he said, “and how right this will prove to you,” and he placed in my hand a small cake upon which was stamped an impression of the signet that I had seen on Esmo’s wrist.  When he saw that I recognised it, he took it back, and, breaking it into fragments, chewed and swallowed it.

“This,” he said, “was given me to avouch the following message:—­Our Chiefs are informed that the Order is threatened with a novel danger.  Systematic persecution by open force or by law has been attempted and defeated ages ago, and will hardly be tried again.  What seems to be intended now is the destruction of our Chiefs, individually, by secret means—­means which it is supposed we shall not be able to trace to the instigators, even if we should detect their instruments.”

“But,” I remarked, “those who have warned you of the danger must know from whom it proceeds, and those who are employed in such an attack must run not only the ordinary risk of assassins, but the further risk entailed by the peculiar powers of those they assail.”

“Those powers,” he answered, “they do not understand or recognise.  The instruments, I presume, will be encouraged by an assurance that the Courts are in their favour, and by a pledge in the last resort that they shall be protected.  The exceptional customs of our Order, especially their refusal to send their children into the public Nurseries, mark out and identify them; and though our places of meeting are concealed and have never been invaded, the fact that we do meet and the persons of those who attend can hardly be concealed.”

“But,” I asked, “if a charge of assassination is once made and proved, how can the Courts refuse to do justice?  Can the instigators protect the culprit without committing themselves?”

“They would appeal, I do not doubt, to a law, passed many ages ago with a special regard to ourselves, but which has not been applied for a score of centuries, putting the members of a secret religious society beyond the pale of legal protection.  That we shall ultimately find them out and avenge ourselves, you need not doubt.  But in the meantime every known dissentient from the customs of the majority is in danger, and persons of note or prominence especially so.  Next to Esmo and his son, the husband of his daughter is, perhaps, in as much peril as any one.  No open attempt on your life will be adventured at present, while you retain the favour of the Campta.  But you have made at least one mortal and powerful enemy, and you may possibly be the object of well-considered and persistent schemes of assassination.  On the other hand, next to our Chief and his son, you have a paramount claim on the protection of the Order; and those who with me will take charge of your affairs have also charge to watch vigilantly over your life.  If you will trust me beforehand with knowledge of all your movements, I think your chief peril will lie in the one sphere upon which we cannot intrude—­your own household; and Clavelta directs your own special attention to this quarter.  Immediate danger can scarcely threaten you as yet, save from a woman’s hand.”