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.
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