On the right and left
this dais was hedged in by the silver walls, on each of which was
hung a huge, golden scrollwork. These scrolls bore legends, which
for the moment Chick ignored. At the rear of the dais was a large
object like a bronze bell.
The floor was of the usual mosaic, except in the centre, where
there was a plain, circular design. Chick took careful note of
this, a circle about twenty feet across, as white and unbroken as
a bed of frozen snow. Whether it was stone or not he could not
determine. All around its edge was a gap that separated it from
the dais, a gap several inches across. Chick turned to Geos:
"The Spot of Life?"
"Even so. It is the strangest thing in all the Thomahlia, my lord.
Can you feel it?"
For Watson had reached out with his toe and touched the white
surface. He drew it back suddenly.
"It has a feeling," he replied, "that I cannot describe. It is
cold, and yet it is not. Perhaps it is my own magnetism."
"Ah! It is well, my lord!"
What the Rhamda meant by that Chick could not tell. He was
interested in the odd white substance. It was as smooth as glass,
although at intervals there were faint, almost imperceptible, dark
lines, like the finest scratches in old ivory. Yet the whiteness
was not dazzling. Again Watson touched it with his foot, and noted
the inexplicable feeling of exhilaration. In the moment of
absorption he quite forgot the concourse about him.
Pages:
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354