He knew only that a black, opaque wave ran up the
long windows, shutting off the light, so that instantly the
darkness of night enveloped everything, blotting out all that maze
of colour; it was the blackness of the void. Then came a tiny
light, a mere dot of flame, over on the opposite wall; a pin-point
of light it was, seemingly coming out of a vast distance like an
approaching star, growing gradually larger, spreading out into a
screen of radiance that presently was flashing with intrinsic
life. The corruscation grew brighter; little tufts of brilliance
shot out with all the stabbing suddenness of shooting stars. To
Chick it was exactly as though some god were pushing his way
through and out of fire. In the end the flame burst asunder,
diminished into a receding circle and sputtered out.
And in the place of the strange light there appeared the
illuminated figure of a man. Leaning forward, Chick rubbed his
eyes and looked again.
It was the bust of Professor Holcomb.
XXXV
THE PERFECT IMPOSTOR
Chick gasped. Of all that assemblage--Rhamdas, guards, the
occupants of the two thrones--he himself was the most astounded.
Was the great professor in actual fact the true Jarados? If not,
how explain this miracle? But if he were, how to explain the
duality, the identity? Surely, it could not be sheer chance!
Fortunately for Chick, it was dark.
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