“Oh, by the way--do either of you happen to recall which direction the house at Chatterton Place faces?” “North,” replied Harry and Chick, almost in the same breath. “Ah yes. Well, the temple faces south. Can you remember that?” They thought they could. The rest of the meal was eaten without any discussion. Just as they arose, however, the doctor observed: “It may be that Hobart Fenton has got to come through. I wish I knew more about his mentality; it's largely a question of psychic influence--the combined, resultant force of the three material gems, and the three degrees of psychic vibration as put forth by him and you two. We shall see. “Something happened today--the Geos told me about it--which may link up Hobart very definitely. It was about one o'clock when one of the temple pheasants began to behave very queerly up on the great stair. It had been walking around on the snow-stone, and flying a bit; then it started to hop down the steps. “About sixteen steps down, Geos says the pheasant stopped and began to flutter frantically, as though some unseen person were holding it. Suddenly it vanished, and as suddenly reappeared again. It flew off, unharmed. I can't quite account for it, but--well, we'll see!” He spoke no more, but led the way out into the entrance to the wing. There they waited only a moment or two, before the Nervina and her retinue arrived. Without delay a start was made for the great black stairway. The doctor alone remained behind. There was a guard-lined lane through the crowd, allowing the Nervina and the rest access to the foot of the steps. Reaching that point she paused for a look around. The sun had just gone down; the artificial lights of the temple had not yet been turned on. Overhead, the great storm-cloud hung portentously, even more ominous than in the brighter light. The huge waterspout columns, the terrific size of the auditorium, were none the less impressive for the incalculable horde that filled every bit of floor space. At the front of the building the archway gave a glimpse of the vastly greater throng waiting outside. But all was quiet, with the silence of reverence and supreme expectation. The long flight of stairs was lined on either side, from bottom to top, with the Rhamdas. On the landing there stood only two of the three chairs that Chick had seen on the previous occasion. The green one had been brought down and placed in the centre of an open spot just at the foot of the stairs. In this chair sat the Bar Senestro. Deployed about him, at a respectful distance, was a semi-circle of the Bars, many hundreds in number. Behind the Bars, separating them from the crowds at their backs, were grouped the crimson and blue guardsmen. Among them, no doubt, were the Jan Lucar and the MacPherson, but Chick could locate neither.