But to the surprise of Chick, it came from the queen. She was standing before her throne now. Around her waist a girdle of satin revealed the tender frailty of her figure. She gave Watson a close scrutiny, and then addressed the Geos: “I want to put one question, Rhamda. The stranger seems to be a goodly young man. He has come from the Jarados. Tell me, is he truly of the chosen?” But a clear, derisive laugh from the opposite throne interrupted the answer. The Bar stood up, his black eyes dancing with mocking laughter. “The chosen, O Aradna? The chosen? Do not allow yourself to be tricked by a little thing! I myself have been chosen by the inherited law of the Thomahlia!” Then to Chick: “I see, Sir Phantom, that our futures are to be intertwined with interest!” “I don't know what you mean.” “No? Very good; if you are really come out of superstition, then I shall teach you the value of materiality. You are well made and handsome, likewise courageous. May the time soon come when you can put your mettle to the test in a fair conflict!” “It is your own saying, O Senestro!” warned Geos. “You must abide by my Lord's reply.” “True; and I shall abide. I know nothing of black magic, or any other. But I care not. I know only that I cannot accept this stranger as a spirit. I have felt his muscles, and I know his strength; they are a man's, and a Thomahlian's.” “Then you do not abide?” “Yes, I do. That is, I do not claim him. He has won his freedom. But as for endorsing him--no, not until he has given further proof. Let him come to the Spot of Life. Let him take the ordeal. Let him qualify on the Day of the Prophet.” “My lord, do you accept?” Watson had no idea what the “ordeal” might be, nor what might be the significance of the day. But he could not very well refuse. He spoke as lightly as he could. “Of course. I accept anything.” Then, addressing the prince: “One word, O Senestro.” “Speak up, Sir Phantom!” “Bar Senestro--what have you done with the Jarados?” An instant's stunned silence greeted this stab. It was broken by the prince. “The Jarados!” His voice was unruffled. “What know I of the Jarados?” “Take care! You have seen him--you know his power!” “You have a courageous sort of impertinence!” “I have determination and knowledge! Bar Senestro, I have come for the Jarados!” Chick paused for effect. “Now what think you? Am I of the chosen?” He had meant it as a deliberate taunt, and so it was taken. The Bar shot to his feet. Not that he was angered; his straight, handsome form was kingly, and for all his impulsiveness there was a certain real majesty about his every pose. “You are of the chosen. It is well; you have given spice to the taunt! I would not have it otherwise. Forget not your courage on the Day of the Prophet!” With that he stepped gracefully, superbly from the dais beneath his throne. He bowed to the Aradna, to Geos, to Chick and to the assembly--and was gone. The blue guard followed in silence.