Everychild shuddered and moved closer to his companion.  “Don’t speak so loud, please,” he said.  “And what about the others?”

“Mr. Orthodox Doctrine is one of those fellows . . . well, he used to burn you, you know; but now he freezes you.”

“And the others?”

“It’s not easy to explain.  The lady—­Mrs. Justitia—­has a habit . . .  I hate to say it, but she’s forever asking you how much money you’ve got, and whether you’ve got any influential friends (if you could only know what she means by that!)—­questions of that sort, which a nice person wouldn’t ask you.”

“It’s all very strange,” whispered Everychild.  “And the one with the red nose?” he asked finally.

“Mr. Policeman.  He isn’t really as bad as the rest of them.  All he does is hit you over the head with a club and turn you over to the lady—­to her with the bandage that’s always slipping off.”

There was a silence, and then Everychild remarked:  “Still, it’s not plain why they’re all sitting around here where your—­your mother . . .”

“It’s just a pose,” said the giant.  “What I can’t understand is why my mother doesn’t denounce them all.  They do no end of harm.  And it was they who drove me away from her long ago.  They said I was a dangerous character, and they all conspired to ruin me.  They gave me a bad name, so that everybody was willing to give me a kick in passing—­all save a few gentle hermits and shepherds and persons like that.  And now—­now I truly fear they’ve got my mother locked up in her temple, so that she’s helpless.  That’s what we’ve got to do:  we’ve got to get her out.  Even if we have to break down the doors.  Though of course they’ll all try to destroy us if they know what we’re about.”

For the moment Everychild forgot the sword he carried—­which the Masked Lady had given him—­and forgot also what the Masked Lady had said to him about a door which would not open save in the presence of that sword.  He said nervously, “Hadn’t we better go away and come back some other time?”

But his companion replied resolutely, “I shall not go away.  I shall wait until they are all asleep—­or perhaps until she opens the door and appears.”

One more question entered Everychild’s mind.  “But if they all hate you so,” he said, “why do they all sit there now as if they did not care?”

“I doubt if they recognize me,” explained the giant.  “It’s been so long since they saw me.  They probably think we’re mere idle travelers.  You know there are many such; and few of them really try to enter the temple.”

And so they stood and waited, and the devotees continued to nod like mandarins.  It seemed indeed that they would never go to sleep.  And it came to pass at last that the giant could no longer restrain himself.  To be within reach of his lost mother, and not to be able to speak to her—­it was too much!

He began to advance silently, leaving Everychild where he stood.  He proceeded, step by step, in the direction of the temple.  And it began to seem that he might reach the temple door without being seen.