He spoke no more, but led the way out into the entrance to the wing.  There they waited only a moment or two, before the Nervina and her retinue arrived.  Without delay a start was made for the great black stairway.

The doctor alone remained behind.

There was a guard-lined lane through the crowd, allowing the Nervina and the rest access to the foot of the steps.  Reaching that point she paused for a look around.

The sun had just gone down; the artificial lights of the temple had not yet been turned on.  Overhead, the great storm-cloud hung portentously, even more ominous than in the brighter light.  The huge waterspout columns, the terrific size of the auditorium, were none the less impressive for the incalculable horde that filled every bit of floor space.  At the front of the building the archway gave a glimpse of the vastly greater throng waiting outside.

But all was quiet, with the silence of reverence and supreme expectation.

The long flight of stairs was lined on either side, from bottom to top, with the Rhamdas.  On the landing there stood only two of the three chairs that Chick had seen on the previous occasion.  The green one had been brought down and placed in the centre of an open spot just at the foot of the stairs.

In this chair sat the Bar Senestro.  Deployed about him, at a respectful distance, was a semi-circle of the Bars, many hundreds in number.  Behind the Bars, separating them from the crowds at their backs, were grouped the crimson and blue guardsmen.  Among them, no doubt, were the Jan Lucar and the MacPherson, but Chick could locate neither.

The Nervina, taking Harry’s arm, ascended the steps.  Chick followed, with the Rhamda Geos at his side.  At the top of the flight the Nervina was escorted to one of the chairs, while Chick placed the Geos in the other.

It left the two Californians on their feet, to move around to whatever extent seemed commensurate with dignity.  Chick drew Harry aside.

“What do you suppose,” said Chick, indicating the handsome, confident figure in the chair at the base of the stairs—­“what do you suppose friend Senestro is thinking about?”

Harry frowned.  “You know him better than I do.  You don’t think he has reformed?”

“Not on your life; not the Bar.  He’s merely adjusted his plans to the new situation.  He sees that the Prophecy is likely to be fulfilled; so, he counts on being the first to get through, after the Nervina.  Then, whether the rest of the Thomahlia follows or not—­he calls himself the divinely appointed leader now, I understand—­he will get through and marry the two Queens anyhow!”

Perhaps it was because the crowd was so terrifically large.  Or, there may have been something in the destiny of things that would not permit the chief actors to feel nervous.  Certain it is that neither of the two men experienced the least stage fright.  Had they been on display before a crowd one-tenth the size, anywhere else, both would have been ill at ease.  This was different—­ enormously so.