It was a slender, frail figure in white—­the Aradna, walking like one in the grip of a higher will.  Before they could make a move she had stepped into the Blind Spot, under the dot of blue, and into a string of light.  And then—­she was gone.

It was as swift as a guess.  It was inexorable and unseen; and being unseen, close akin to terror.  The group watched and waited, scarcely breathing.  What would happen next?

There came a sudden, jarring click—­like the tapping of iron.  And next instant—­

The Spot opened to human sight.

The library at 288 Chatterton Place was gone.  Instead, the people on the stairs were gazing down from the Spot of Life, straight into the colossal Temple of the Jarados.

It was as Chick had described it—­immense—­beyond conception.  Through the great doors and out into the plaza beyond was gathered all Thomahlia, reverent, like those waiting for the crack of doom.

Above the horde, high on the opposite wall, stood out the monster Clover Leaf of the Jarados; three-coloured—­blazing like liquid fire; it was ominous with real life.

At that moment the whole concourse rippled with commotion.  Arms were uplifted; one and all pointed towards the dais.  They, too were looking through the Spot.  Then the multitude began to move.

It heaved and surged and rolled toward the centre.  The guards were pressed in upon the Bars, the Bars upon the Rhamda-lined stair.  There was no resisting that flood of humanity.  On and up it came, sweeping everything before it.

Directly in the foreground lay the snow-stone.  On its centre stood the dog Queen, crouching, waiting, bristling.  By her side Harry Wendel crouched on one knee, as if awaiting the signal.  Behind him, the Nervina, supporting the awakening Aradna.  And in front of all, the powerful bulk of Hobart Fenton, standing squarely at the head of the stair, ready to grapple the first to reach the landing.

But most important of all, there stood the doctor himself.  He was at the Nervina’s side; in his hand, the case of priceless data.  He was gazing through the Spot and making a signal of some kind to Watson, whereupon the latter leaped to the edge of the unseen circle.

Something had gone wrong.  The Spot was not fully open.  Nothing but sight could get through.

Yet there was no time for anything.  Up the stairs came the Bars, leading and being pressed forward by the horde.  At their head dashed the Bar Senestro, handsome as Alexander.  Hobart stepped forward to meet him, but the doctor stopped him with a word.

Only a few seconds elapsed between death and salvation.  Again Dr. Holcomb signed to Watson; not a sound came through.  Watson hesitated.

The dog Queen shot to her feet.  Then the Senestro, out-distancing all the rest and dodging Hobart, had leaped upon the dais.

Upon the wall across the temple the great Leaf of the Jarados stood out like sinister fire.  It pulsed and vibrated—­alive.  The top petal—­the blue one—­suddenly broke into a seething wave of flame.