"Speak when you will," Robur replied. "Tomorrow at the house of Prince Lakkon, Jadgor shall name you Hupor before the nobles of Aphur. So is it planned. And when this motur of ours is completed, you shall drive it to Ladhra and take with you the noble rank for Sinon, since he has served his state in bringing about your birth." Tomorrow night at the house of Prince Lakkon! The words rang in Croft's brain. Naia--his beloved should see him exalted, made a noble of Aphur. What more auspicious meeting could he desire than this? It was fate--fate. Suddenly Croft felt his face flush and his eyes took on a flashing light. "Rob," he cried. "This is only the beginning. What we shall do for Tamarizia Zitu only knows." "Would Zitu had sent you before this then," Robur growled. Croft noted his change of manner with amaze, and plainly Robur was not unmindful of his regard. "I question not the wisdom of Jadgor, my father," he went on quickly. "Yet like I not this sacrifice of a virgin maid to the lecherous son of Cathur's king." "Rob!" Croft cried, as his friend and comrade paused and caught a single lung-filling breath and went on. "Zitu himself must frown upon such a thing." Robur eyed him with mounting interest, and suddenly Croft raced ahead in eager question. "Rob--how long between the night of betrothal and the marriage itself?" "Hai!" Robur narrowed his eyes. "A cycle, my friend. By royal custom these things are never matters of haste." "A cycle!" Croft threw up his head and laughed. "Rob, could we make Tamarizia strong beyond any dream of her wisest men inside that cycle, what then?" Robur frowned. "A promise is a promise, my friend." "But," said Croft, "Much may happen in a cycle--and Zollaria plans." "What mean you?" Robur seized his arm in a grip like iron. "Jasor--you are a strange man. Twice now have you spoken of Zollaria's plans. What do you have in mind?" "To watch Cathur's prince," said Croft. "Hold, Rob--the priest, Abbu, is my friend. He will help us in this. Magur, too, must give us aid. Let us watch--and work." * * * * * Work--yes, work. With a Sirian year in which to work for such a prize what could a man not do? Croft threw up his face and met Robur's questioning gaze. "Aphur shall show the way to the nation," he cried. "Zollaria's plans shall come to naught, my friend." "Zitu!" Robur gasped. "After tomorrow night we must speak of these things to Aphur's king. Jasor, I am minded that Magur is right. Zitu works through you to his ends." The motor coughed and died, having used up its fuel. Croft smiled, and called Robur back to work. Through the day they toiled, and by night the engine was bolted to the chassis, wheeled into the assembling-room by the workmen that afternoon. There remained now no more than the assembling of the clutch and the transmission before the body should be affixed to complete the car. And the body was ready and waiting to be bolted fast.