So once more we proceeded down the empty streets of that underground abode which, except that it was better illuminated, reminded me of the Greek conception of Hades.  We came to the sacred fountain over which stood the guardian statue of Life, pouring from the cups she held the waters of Good and Ill that mingled into one health-giving wine.

“Drink, all of you,” she said; “for I think before the sun sets again upon the earth we shall need strength, every one of us.”

So we drank, and she drank herself, and once more felt the blood go dancing through our veins as though the draught had been some nectar of the gods.  Then, having extinguished the lanterns which we still carried, for here they were needless, and we wished to save our oil, we followed her through the great doors into the vast hall of audience and advanced up it between the endless, empty seats.  At its head, on the dais beneath the arching shell, sat Oro on his throne.  As before, he wore the jewelled cap and the gorgeous, flowing robes, while the table in front of him was still strewn with sheets of metal on which he wrote with a pen, or stylus, that glittered like a diamond or his own fierce eyes.  Then he lifted his head and beckoned to us to ascend the dais.

“You are here.  It is well,” he said, which was all his greeting.  Only when Tommy ran up to him he bent down and patted the dog’s head with his long, thin hand, and, as he did so, his face softened.  It was evident to me that Tommy was more welcome to him than were the rest of us.

There was a long silence while, one by one, he searched us with his piercing glance.  It rested on me, the last of the three of us, and from me travelled to Yva.

“I wonder why I have sent for you?” he said at length, with a mirthless laugh.  “I think it must be that I may convince Bickley, the sceptic, that there are powers which he does not understand, but that I have the strength to move.  Also, perhaps, that your lives may be spared for my own purposes in that which is about to happen.  Hearken!  My labours are finished; my calculations are complete,” and he pointed to the sheets of metal before him that were covered with cabalistic signs.  “Tomorrow I am about to do what once before I did and to plunge half the world in the deeps of ocean and lift again from the depths that which has been buried for a quarter of a million years.”

“Which half?” asked Bickley.

“That is my secret, Physician, and the answer to it lies written here in signs you cannot read.  Certain countries will vanish, others will be spared.  I say that it is my secret.”

“Then, Oro, if you could do what you threaten, you would drown hundreds of millions of people.”

“If I could do!  If I could do!” he exclaimed, glaring at Bickley.  “Well, tomorrow you shall see what I can do.  Oh! why do I grow angry with this fool?  For the rest, yes, they must drown.  What does it matter?  Their end will be swift; some few minutes of terror, that is all, and in one short century every one of them would have been dead.”