"I and Akko," he said quietly, "we are two of these six carriers, adôn." Then Amory leaped up, scattering the ashes of his pipe over the tiles. This, then, was what was the matter with the feet of the two men, about which they had all speculated on the deck of _The Aloha_, the feet trained from birth to make the ascent of the steep trail, feet become long, tenuous, almost prehensile-- "It's miracles, that's what it is," declared Amory solemnly. "How on earth did they come to take you to New York?" he could not forbear asking. "The prince knew nothing of your country, adôn," answered Jarvo simply. "He might have needed us to enter it." "To climb the custom-house," said Amory abstractedly, and laughed out suddenly in sheer light-heartedness. Here was come to them an undertaking to which St. George himself must warm as he had warmed at the prospect of the voyage. To go up the mountain to the threshold of the king's palace, where lived the daughter of the king. Amory bent himself with a will to mastering each detail of the little man's proposals. Rollo, they decided, was at once to make ready a few belongings in the oil-skins. Immediately after the banquet St. George and Amory were to mingle with the throng and leave the palace--no difficult matter in the press of the departures--and, on the side of the courtyard beneath the windows of the banquet room, Jarvo, already joined by Rollo, would be awaiting them in the motor bound for Melita. "It sounds as if it couldn't be done," said Amory in intense enjoyment. "It's bully." He paced up and down the room, talking it over. He folded his arms, and looked at the matter from all sides and wondered, as touching a story being "covered" for Chillingworth, whether he were leaving anything unthought. "Chillingworth!" he said to himself in ecstasy. "Wouldn't Chillingworth dote to idolatry upon this sight?" Then Amory stood still, facing something that he had not seen before. He had come, in his walk, upon a little table set near the room's entrance, and bearing a decanter and some cups. "Hello," he said, "Rollo, where did this come from?" Rollo came forward, velvet steps, velvet pressing together of his hands, face expressionless as velvet too. "A servant of 'is 'ighness, sir," he said--Rollo did that now and then to let you know that his was the blood of valets--"left it some time ago, with the compliments of the prince. It looks like a good, nitzy Burgundy, sir," added Rollo tolerantly, "though the man did say it was bottled in something B.C., sir, and if it was it's most likely flat. You can't trust them vintages much farther back than the French Revolootion, beggin' your pardon, sir."