For a moment there was silence, then a rustle of general comment. Chick watched the Rhamdas, leaning over to whisper to each other. Could he stand up against them? But none of them spoke. After the first murmur of comment they lapsed into silence again. It was the Bar Senestro who broke the tension. “May I ask, Rhamda Geos, why you make such an assertion? What proof have you, to begin with, that this man,” indicating Watson with a nod, “is not merely one of ourselves: a D'Hartian or a Kospian?” The Geos replied instantly: “You know the manner of his discovery, Bar Senestro. Have you not eyes?” Geos seemed to think he had said the last word. “Surely,” rejoined the Bar good-humouredly. “I have very good eyes, Rhamda Geos. Likewise I have a mind to reason with; but my imagination, I fear, is defective. What I behold is just such a creature as myself; not otherwise. How hold you that this one is proof out of the occult?” “You are sceptical,” returned the Rhamda, evenly. “Even as you behold him, you are full of doubt. But do you not recall the words of the great Avec? Do you not know the Prophecy of the Jarados?” “Truly, Geos; I remember them both. Especially the writing on the wall of the temple. Does not the prophet himself say: 'And behold, in the last days there shall come among ye--the false ones. Them ye shall slay'?” “All very true, Bar Senestro. But you well know--we all know--that the true prophecy was to be fulfilled when the Spot was opened. Did not the fulfilment begin when the Avec and the Nervina passed through to the other side?” “The fulfilment, Geos? Perhaps it was the sign of the coming of impostors! The end may not be until ALL the conditions are complied with!” But at this moment Aradna saw fit to speak. “Senestro, would you condemn this one without allowing him a word in his own defence? Is it fair? Besides, he does not look like an impostor to me. I like his face. Perhaps he is one of the chosen!” At the last word the Bar frowned. His glance shifted suddenly to Watson, a swift look of ice-cold calculation. “Very, very true, O Aradna. I, too, would have him speak in his own behalf. Let him amuse us with his tongue. What would your majesty care to hear, O Aradna, from this phantom?” The words were of biting satire. Chick wheeled upon the Bar. Their eyes clashed; an encounter not altogether to Watson's credit. He was a bit unsteady, a trifle uncertain of his power. He had calculated on the superstition of the Rhamdas to hold him up until he caught his footing, and this unexpected scepticism was disconcerting. However, he was no coward; the feeling passed away almost at once. He strode straight up to the throne of the Bar; and once more he spoke from sheer impulse: “The Aradna has spoken true, O Senestro, or sinister, or whatever you may be called. I demand fair hearing! It is my due; for I have come from another world. I follow--the Jarados!”