The king for a moment looked astounded at this bold and defiant speech, for he had hitherto regarded Sekukuni as one of his most trustworthy chiefs; but he quickly recovered from his astonishment, and signed the guards to lead away their prisoners. CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE PLACE OF RED STONES. The day was well advanced when at length Dick Maitland, weary and hungry, returned to his tent, where he found Grosvenor indulging in a bath and a change of clothing after a preliminary exploration of the ruins. "You seemed to be engaged busily upon affairs of state, and not likely to need me, so I trotted off to take a general look round," he explained. "Well," demanded Dick, "and what do you think of them?" "Awfully interesting!" answered Grosvenor. "Wonderful people they must have been who were responsible for the building of the city. People of refinement, don't you know; fond of luxury, intensely artistic, and all that sort of thing. Some of the carvings--floreated capitals and, and what-d'ye-call-ems of that sort--are really splendid. And everything's on such a grand scale, too; must have been immensely wealthy--those old johnnies. I'm only sorry now that I'm not an archaeologist; for if I were I might write a book about the place and become famous. But no, that wouldn't do either, for Professor von Schalckenberg has already done that, so my book would only be a drug on the market. But I've taken some rattlin' good photographs of the place, and I ought to be able to do something with them later on--eh, what?" "Yes," said Dick, "I dare say you will--if they come out right. Have you developed them yet?" "No, not yet," answered Grosvenor. "Waiting until it gets dark before I attempt anything of that sort. But I know that they'll come out all right. Good light, correct exposure, isochromatic screen and films; bound to come out right, y'know. Found the place where the Professor and his pals had been digging. Must have done a lot of work, those johnnies; no end of soil turned over where they dug for pavements and-- and--things. And, pray, what have you been about all day, old chap?" Dick told him, pretty well _in extenso_, how he had passed the day, even going so far as to describe his hypnotic experiments--of which he had said nothing to Grosvenor thus far--with the result that the Mighty Hunter was rendered almost speechless with astonishment. "Hypnotised 'em, eh?" he ejaculated. "Well, I'll be shot! Thought hypnotism was all humbug and tommy rot, y'know. Collusion, and that sort of thing."