“The test?” from Geos, in a hushed tone.

“Just that.  There is none who knows the likeness of the Jarados; none but the absent Avec.  None among us has ever seen his image.  It is a secret to all save the High Rhamda.  Yet, in cases like this, well may the Leaf be opened.”

Watson, wondering what was meant, listened closely to the prince as he continued:  “It is written that there are times when all may see.  Surely this is such a time.

“Now let this stranger describe the Jarados.  He says that he had seen him; that he is the Prophet’s prospective son-in-law.  Good!  Let him describe the Jarados to us!

“Then open the Leaf!  If he speaks true, we shall know him to be from the Jarados.  If he fail, then I shall claim him for purposes of my own.”

Whatever the motives of the Senestro, he surely had the genius of quick decision.  Watson knew that the moment had come to test his luck to the uttermost.  There was but one thing to do; he did it.  He said to the Rhamda Geos, in a tone of the utmost indifference: 

“I am willing.”

Geos was distinctively relieved, “It is good, my lord.  Tell us in simple words.  Describe the Jarados just as you have seen him, just as you would have us see him.  Afterwards we shall open the Leaf.”  And in a lower tone:  “If you speak accurately I shall be vindicated, my lord.  I doubt not that you are a better man than the prince; but place your reliance in the Truth; it will be one more proof of the occult, and of the Day approaching.”

Which is all that Watson told.  But first he breathed a prayer to One who is above all things occult or physical.  He did not understand where he was nor how he had got there; he only knew that his fate was hanging on a toss of chance.

He faced the Rhamdas without flinching; and half closing his eyes and speaking very clearly, he searched his memory for what he recalled of the old professor.  He tried to describe him just as he had appeared that day in the ethics class, when he made the great announcement; the trim, stubby figure of Professor Holcomb, the pink, healthy skin, the wise, grey, kindly eyes, and the close-cropped, pure white beard:  all, just as Chick had known him.  One chance in millions; he took it.

“That is the Jarados as I have seen him; a short, elderly, wise, bearded man.”

There was not a breath or a murmur in comment.  All hung upon his words; there was not a sound in the room as he ceased speaking, only the throb of his own heart and the subtle pounding of caution in his veins.  He had spoken.  If only there might be a resemblance!

The Geos stepped forward a pace.  “It is well said.  If the truth has been spoken, there shall be room for no dispute.  It shall be known throughout all Thomahlia that the Chosen of the Jarados has spoken.  Let the Leaf be opened!”