While Maskull was still kneeling, he became conscious of someone standing beside him.  He looked up quickly and saw a man, but did not at once rise.

“Another phaen dead,” said the newcomer in a grave, toneless, and intellectual voice.

Maskull got up.

The man was short and thickset but emaciated.  His forehead was not disfigured by any organs.  He was middle-aged.  The features were energetic and rather coarse—­yet it seemed to Maskull as though a pure, hard life had done something toward refining them.  His sanguine eyes carried a twisted, puzzled look; some unanswerable problem was apparently in the forefront of his brain.  His face was hairless; the hair of his head was short and manly; his brow was wide.  He was clothed in a black, sleeveless robe, and bore a long staff in his hand.  There was an air of cleanness and austerity about the whole man that was attractive.

He went on speaking dispassionately to Maskull, and, while doing so, kept passing his hand reflectively over his cheeks and chin.  “They all find their way here to die.  They come from Matterplay.  There they live to an incredible age.  Partly on that account, and partly because of their spontaneous origin, they regard themselves as the favoured children of Faceny.  But when they come here to find him, they die at once.”

“I think this one is the last of the race.  But whom do I speak to?”

“I am Corpang.  Who are you, where do you come from, and what are you doing here?”

“My name is Maskull.  My home is on the other side of the universe.  As for what I am doing here—­I accompanied Leehallfae, that phaen, from Matterplay.”

“But a man doesn’t accompany a phaen out of friendship.  What do you want in Threal?”

“Then this is Threal?”

“Yes.”

Maskull remained silent.

Corpang studied his face with rough, curious eyes.  “Are you ignorant, or merely reticent, Maskull?”

“I came here to ask questions, and not to answer them.”

The stillness of the place was almost oppressive.  Not a breeze stirred, and not a sound came through the air.  Their voices had been lowered, as though they were in a cathedral.

“Then do you want my society, or not?” asked Corpang.

“Yes, if you can fit in with my mood, which is—­not to talk about myself.”

“But you must at least tell me where you want to go to.”

“I want to see what is to be seen here, and then go on to Lichstorm.”

“I can guide you through, if that’s all you want.  Come, let us start.”

“First let’s do our duty and bury the dead, if possible.”

“Turn around,” directed Corpang.

Maskull looked around quickly.  Leehallfae’s body had disappeared.

“What does this mean—­what has happened?”

“The body has returned to whence it came.  There was nowhere here for it to be, so it has vanished.  No burial will be required.”