“Neither Kospian nor D’Hartian; I am an American.  True, there are some who have said that I am built like a man; I pride myself that I can conduct myself like one.”

“And speak impertinently.”  Still in the best of humour, the prince coolly reached out and felt Watson’s biceps.  His eyes became still brighter.  If not an admirer of decorum, he could appreciate firm flesh.  “Sirra!  You are strong!  Answer me—­do you know anything about games of violence?”

“Several.  Anything you choose.”

But the prince shook his head.  “Not so.  I claim no unfair advantage; you are well met, and opportune.  Let it be a contest of your own choosing.  The greater honour to myself, the victor!”

But the little queen saw fit to interfere.

“Senestro, is this the code of the Bar?  Is not your proposal unseemly to so great a guest?  Restrain your eagerness for strength and for muscle!  You have preferred charges against this man; now you would hurl your body as well.  Remember, I am the queen; I can command it of you.”

The Senestro bowed.

“Your wishes are my law, O Aradna.”  Then, turning to Watson:  “I am over-eager, stranger.  You are the best-built man I have seen for many a circle.  But I shall best you.”  He paced to his throne and resumed his seat.  “Let him tell us his tale.  I repeat, Geos, that for all his beauty this one is an impostor.  When he has spoken I shall confute him.  I ask only that in the end he be turned over to me.”

It was plain that the Thomahlia was blest with odd rulers.  If the Bar Senestro was a priest, he was clearly still more of a soldier.  The fiery challenge of the man struck an answering chord in Watson; he knew the time must come when he should weigh himself up against this Alexander, and it was anything but displeasing to him.

“What must I say and do?” he asked the Rhamda Geos.  “What do they want me to tell them?”

“Just what you have told me:  tell them of the Nervina, and of the Rhamda Avec.  The prince is a man of the world, but from the Rhamdas you will have justice.”

Whereat Chick addressed the Intellectuals.  They seemed accustomed to the outbursts of the handsome Bar, and were now waiting complacently.  In a few words Watson described the Nervina and Avec; their appearance, manners—­everything.  Fortunately he did not have to dissemble.  When he had finished there was a faint murmur of approval.

“It is proven,” declared the girl queen.  “It is truly my cousin, the Nervina.  I knew not the Rhamda, but from your faces it must have been he, Senestro, what say you to this?”

But the Bar was totally unconvinced.

“All this is childish.  Did I not say he is of our world—­D’Hartian or Kospian, or some other?  Does not all Thomahlia know of the Nervina?  Few have seen the Rhamda Avec, but what of it?  Some have.  What this stranger says proves nothing at all.  I say, give him a test.”