“What would you suggest?” he said.

Jarvo’s eyes brightened.  At once he sprang to his feet and stood before Amory, taking soft steps here and there as he talked, in movement graceful and tenuous as the greyhound of which he had reminded St. George.

“In the palace yard,” explained the little man rapidly, “is a motor which came from Melita, bringing guests for the ceremony of to-night.  They will remain in the palace until after the marriage of the prince, two days hence.  But the motor—­that must go back to-night to Melita, adon.  I have made for myself permission to take it there.  But you—­the three—­must go with me.  At the tower in the ilex grove I shall leave you, and I shall return.  Is this good?”

“Excellent.  But what afterward?” demanded Amory.  “Are we all to keep house in the tower?”

Jarvo shook his head, like a man who has thought of everything.

“Through to-morrow, yes,” he said, “but to-morrow night, when the dark falls—­”

He bent forward and spoke softly.

“Did not the adon wish to ascend the mountain?” he asked.

“Rather,” said Amory, “but how, good heavens?”

“I and Akko wish to ascend also; the prince has sent us no message, and we fear him,” said Jarvo simply.  “There are on the island, adon, six carriers, trained from birth to make the ascent.  They are the sons of those whose duty it was to ascend, and they the sons for many generations.  The trail is very steep, very perilous.  Six were taught to go up with messages long before the knowledge of the wireless way, long before the flight of the airships.  They are become a tradition of the island.  It is with them that you must ascend—­if you have no fear.”

“Fear!” cried Amory.  “But these men, what of them?  They are in the employ of the State.  How do you know they will take us?”

Jarvo dropped his eyes.

“I and Akko,” he said quietly, “we are two of these six carriers, adon.”

Then Amory leaped up, scattering the ashes of his pipe over the tiles.  This, then, was what was the matter with the feet of the two men, about which they had all speculated on the deck of The Aloha, the feet trained from birth to make the ascent of the steep trail, feet become long, tenuous, almost prehensile—­

“It’s miracles, that’s what it is,” declared Amory solemnly.  “How on earth did they come to take you to New York?” he could not forbear asking.

“The prince knew nothing of your country, adon,” answered Jarvo simply.  “He might have needed us to enter it.”

“To climb the custom-house,” said Amory abstractedly, and laughed out suddenly in sheer light-heartedness.  Here was come to them an undertaking to which St. George himself must warm as he had warmed at the prospect of the voyage.  To go up the mountain to the threshold of the king’s palace, where lived the daughter of the king.