You
were lying unconscious on the floor."
"A temple! How did I get there, sir? Do you know?"
"We only know that a moment before there was nothing; next
instant--you."
Watson thought. There was a subconscious sound that still
lingered in his memory; a sound full-toned, flooding, enveloping.
Was there any connection--
"'The Temple of the Leaf,' you call it, sir. I seem to remember
having heard a bell. Is there such a thing in that temple?"
The Rhamda Geos smiled, his eyes brightening. "It is sometimes
called the Temple of the Bell."
"Ah!" A pause, and Watson asked, "Where is this temple? And is
this room a part of the building?"
"No. You are in the Sar-Amenive Hospital, an institution of the
Rhamdas."
The Rhamdas! So there were several of them. A sort of society,
perhaps.
"In San Francisco?"
"No. San Francisco! Again I fail to understand. This locality is
known as the Mahovisal."
"The Mahovisal!" Watson thought in silence for a moment. He noted
the extremely keen interest of the Rhamda, the ultra-intelligent
flicker of the eyes, the light of query and critical analysis.
"You call this the Mahovisal, sir? What is it: town, world or
institution?"
The other smiled again. The lines about his sensitive mouth were
susceptible of various interpretations: emotion, or condescension,
or the satisfying feeling that comes from the simple vindication
of some inner conviction.
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