Perhaps the old villain was sincere in his stand; possibly in his innermost soul he really believed he was true to his faith. I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But I felt that it was only a pose, that he was taking this means of revenging himself upon me, and I would willingly have killed him on the spot, if doing so would have helped matters any. But I knew--as he did also--that killing him would merely make matters worse. I would be his successor. I could not marry Itza to myself, for in the eyes of the law and of the people’s faith, she was a Virgin of the Sun and could not wed a priest of the Sun, and unless I married her before I stepped into Kinchi Haman’s shoes, she could never, legally, be my wife. She could, of course, become my concubine at any time, for as the priest of Kukulcan, I was entitled to acquire any and as many unmarried women as I desired without question or interference. But I had no desire or intention of availing myself of this opportunity, although Itza, accustomed all her life to the religion and the social laws of her people, was quite willing to sacrifice herself on the altar of our love. Hence the hideous old priest felt that, in this one matter, he could defy me in safety. But had I known what he was planning and plotting in his crafty, cruel brain; had I realized what was in store for us, and had I been more familiar with the laws and the religion, I would have put an end to him then and there, even though my act prevented my beloved Itza from ever being more than my mistress. But even Nohul Voh could not read the thoughts of the priest--or if he could foresee the future in this instance, he refused to divulge it to me. So, telling Itza and Azcopil of my plans, I waited and watched for the reappearance of the Bridge of Light. Repeatedly, too, I made my way to the chasm and spent hours examining the spot where the amazing bridge had spanned the abyss, hoping thereby to obtain some clue or inkling of the phenomenon, perhaps even to solve its secret. At risk of my life, I lay upon the very brink of the precipice, and leaning far over, examined the surface of the rock. But I could see no device, no apparatus that hinted at the origin or the operation of the miraculous thing. There was, however, a cavity or rather a group of small cavities a few feet below the verge of the cliff, and by listening intently, I could detect a peculiar hissing sound like escaping steam from within the holes. Also, I discovered that a draught or stream of air issued from them, for when I lowered a bit of rag attached to a cord, it was blown outward as though an immense fan was operating within the apertures in the rock.