“The palace of the King,” said Yva, “whereof we approach the great hall.”

We entered through mighty metal doors, one of which stood ajar, into a vestibule which from certain indications I gathered had once been a guard, or perhaps an assembly-room.  It was about forty feet deep by a hundred wide.  Thence she led us through a smaller door into the hall itself.  It was a vast place without columns, for there was no roof to support.  The walls of marble or limestone were sculptured like those of Egyptian temples, apparently with battle scenes, though of this I am not sure for I did not go near to them.  Except for a broad avenue along the middle, up which we walked, the area was filled with marble benches that would, I presume, have accommodated several thousand people.  But they were empty—­empty, and oh! the loneliness of it all.

Far away at the head of the hall was a dais enclosed, and, as it were, roofed in by a towering structure that mingled grace and majesty to a wonderful degree.  It was modelled on the pattern of a huge shell.  The base of the shell was the platform; behind were the ribs, and above, the overhanging lip of the shell.  On this platform was a throne of silvery metal.  It was supported on the arched coils of snakes, whereof the tails formed the back and the heads the arms of the throne.

On this throne, arrayed in gorgeous robes, sat the Lord Oro, his white beard flowing over them, and a jewelled cap upon his head.  In front of him was a low table on which lay graven sheets of metal, and among them a large ball of crystal.

There he sat, solemn and silent in the midst of this awful solitude, looking in very truth like a god, as we conceive such a being to appear.  Small as he was in that huge expanse of buildings, he seemed yet to dominate it, in a sense to fill the emptiness which was accentuated by his presence.  I know that the sight of him filled me with true fear which it had never done in the light of day, not even when he arose from his crystal coffin.  Now for the first time I felt as though I were really in the presence of a Being Supernatural.  Doubtless the surroundings heightened this impression.  What were these mighty edifices in the bowels of the world?  Whence came this wondrous, all-pervading and translucent light, whereof we could see no origin?  Whither had vanished those who had reared and inhabited them?  How did it happen that of them all, this man, if he were a man; and this lovely woman at my side, who, if I might trust my senses and instincts, was certainly a woman, alone survived of their departed multitudes?

The thing was crushing.  I looked at Bickley for encouragement, but got none, for he only shook his head.  Even Bastin, now that the first effects of the Life-water had departed, seemed overwhelmed, and muttered something about the halls of Hades.

Only the little dog Tommy remained quite cheerful.  He trotted down the hall, jumped on to the dais and sat himself comfortably at the feet of its occupant.