This is what bothered Chick.  He did not know how to adjust himself; life, place, sequence, were all out of order.  Until he could gather exact data, he must trust to intuition as before.

The two pictures vanished simultaneously.  Down came the black waves from the windows, gradually, and in a moment the room was once more flooded with that mellow radiance.  The Rhamda Geos stepped forward as a murmur of awed approval arose from the assembly.  There was no applause.  One does not applaud the miraculous.  The Geos took his hand.

“It is proven!” he declared.  Then, to the Rhamdas:  “Is there any question, my brothers?”

But no word came from the floor.  Seemingly superstition had triumphed over all else.  The men of learning turned none but reverent faces toward Watson.

He forebore to glance at the Bar Senestro.  Despite the triumph he was apprehensive of the princes’s keen genius.  An agnostic is seldom converted by what could be explained away as mere coincidence.  Moreover, as it ultimately appeared, the Bar now had more than one reason for antagonising the man who claimed to be the professor’s prospective son-in-law.

“Is there any question?” repeated Rhamda Geos.

But to the surprise of Chick, it came from the queen.  She was standing before her throne now.  Around her waist a girdle of satin revealed the tender frailty of her figure.  She gave Watson a close scrutiny, and then addressed the Geos: 

“I want to put one question, Rhamda.  The stranger seems to be a goodly young man.  He has come from the Jarados.  Tell me, is he truly of the chosen?”

But a clear, derisive laugh from the opposite throne interrupted the answer.  The Bar stood up, his black eyes dancing with mocking laughter.

“The chosen, O Aradna?  The chosen?  Do not allow yourself to be tricked by a little thing!  I myself have been chosen by the inherited law of the Thomahlia!” Then to Chick:  “I see, Sir Phantom, that our futures are to be intertwined with interest!”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“No?  Very good; if you are really come out of superstition, then I shall teach you the value of materiality.  You are well made and handsome, likewise courageous.  May the time soon come when you can put your mettle to the test in a fair conflict!”

“It is your own saying, O Senestro!” warned Geos.  “You must abide by my Lord’s reply.”

“True; and I shall abide.  I know nothing of black magic, or any other.  But I care not.  I know only that I cannot accept this stranger as a spirit.  I have felt his muscles, and I know his strength; they are a man’s, and a Thomahlian’s.”

“Then you do not abide?”

“Yes, I do.  That is, I do not claim him.  He has won his freedom.  But as for endorsing him—­no, not until he has given further proof.  Let him come to the Spot of Life.  Let him take the ordeal.  Let him qualify on the Day of the Prophet.”