“‘Verily,’ says he, most solemnly, ‘thou art of th’ royal Bars!’ An’ he made me a high officer, he did.”

“Was he the Bar Senestro?” asked Watson.

“Nay; ’twas a far better man—­Senestro’s brother, that died not long after.  When Oi saw th’ Senestro, Oi had sinse enough to kape me mouth shut.  An’ now Oi’m a high Bar—­next to th’ Senestro hisself!  What’s more, sor, there’s no one alive kens th’ truth but yerself an’ th’ ould doctor.”

It was a queer story, but in the light of all that had gone before, wonderfully convincing.  Watson began to see light breaking through the darkness.  “Now there are two,” the old lady at 288 Chatterton Place had said to Jerome, when the detective came looking for the vanished professor.  Had she referred to Holcomb and MacPherson?  Two had gone through the Blind Spot, and two had come out—­the Rhamda Avec and the Nervina.  “Now there are two,” she had said.

“Tell me a little more about Holcomb, Pat!”

“‘Tis a short story.  Oi can’t tell ye much, owin’ to orders from the old gent hisself.  He came shortly after th’ death of the first Bar, Senestro’s brother.  Seems there was some rumpus aboot th’ old Rhamda Avec, which same Oi always kept away from—­him as was goin’ to prove th’ spirits!  Annyhow, we was guardin’ th’ temple awaitin’ th’ spook as was promised.  An’ thot’s how we got th’ ould doc.

“But th’ Rhamdas niver saw him.  Th’ Senestro double-crossed ’em, an’ slipped th’ doctor oop to th’ Palace av Light.”

“The Palace of—­what?”

“The Palace av light, sor.  Tis th’ home av th’ Jarados. ’twas held always holy by th’ Thomahlians; no man dared go within miles av it; since the Jarados was here, t’ousands of years ago, no one at all has been inside av it.

“But the Senestro knew that th’ doctor was th’ real Jarados, at least he t’ought so; an’ he wasna afraid o’ him.  He’s na coward, th’ Senestro.  He put th’ doctor in th’ Jarados’ home!  Only th’ Prophecy worries him at all.”

At last Watson was touching firm ground.  Things were beginning to link up—­the Senestro, the professor, the Prophecy of the Jarados.

“Well, sor, we Bars have kept th’ ould doctor prisoner there iver since he come, wit’ none save me to give him a wee bit word av comfort.  But it dinna hurt th’ old gent.  Whin he finds all them balls an’ rainbows an’ eddicated secrets, he forgets iverything else; he’s contint wit ’his discovery.  ‘Tis th’ wise head th’ doctor has; an’ Oi make no doobt he’s th’ real Jarados.”

The red-haired man went on to say that the professor knew of Chick’s coming from the beginning.  He immediately called in MacPherson and gave him some orders, or rather directions, which the Irishman could not understand.  He knew only that he was to go to the Temple of the Leaf and there touch certain objects in a certain way; also, he was to arrange to get near Chick, and give him a word of cheer.