He did not know how to adjust
himself; life, place, sequence, were all out of order. Until he
could gather exact data, he must trust to intuition as before.
The two pictures vanished simultaneously. Down came the black
waves from the windows, gradually, and in a moment the room was
once more flooded with that mellow radiance. The Rhamda Geos
stepped forward as a murmur of awed approval arose from the
assembly. There was no applause. One does not applaud the
miraculous. The Geos took his hand.
"It is proven!" he declared. Then, to the Rhamdas: "Is there any
question, my brothers?"
But no word came from the floor. Seemingly superstition had
triumphed over all else. The men of learning turned none but
reverent faces toward Watson.
He forebore to glance at the Bar Senestro. Despite the triumph he
was apprehensive of the princes's keen genius. An agnostic is
seldom converted by what could be explained away as mere
coincidence. Moreover, as it ultimately appeared, the Bar now had
more than one reason for antagonising the man who claimed to be
the professor's prospective son-in-law.
"Is there any question?" repeated Rhamda Geos.
But to the surprise of Chick, it came from the queen. She was
standing before her throne now. Around her waist a girdle of satin
revealed the tender frailty of her figure. She gave Watson a close
scrutiny, and then addressed the Geos:
"I want to put one question, Rhamda.
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