“The royal audience chamber,” he said, carelessly, to the driver behind the glass of the adjoining compartment, and down they floated as lightly as a bubble--down past balcony after balcony, laden with moving throngs, until they alighted in a great conservatory. Near them was a tall fountain the water of which was playing weird music on great bells of glass, some of which hung in the fountain's stream and others rose and fell, giving forth strange, submerged tones in the foaming basin. “It is a new invention recently placed here by the king's son who is a musical genius,” explained Tradmos. “You will be astonished at some of his inventions.” He led them, as if to avoid the great crowds that they could now hear on all sides, down a long vista of palms, the branches of which met over their heads, to the wide door of the audience chamber. A party of men dressed in uniforms of white silk with gold and silver ornaments bowed before the captain and made way for him. The captives now found themselves in the most splendid and spacious room they had ever seen, at the far end of which was a long dais and on it an elaborate throne. “I shall be obliged to leave you when the king comes,” said Tradmos to Thorndyke, “but I shall hope to see you again. Don't forget my name and rank, for I may send you a message some time that may aid you.” “Thank you,” replied the Englishman, and then as a throng of beautiful young women came from a room on the side and gathered about the throne he added inquisitively: “Who are they?” “The wives and daughters of the king and the wives of the princes,” was the cautious answer, “but don't look at any one of them closely.” “I don't see how a fellow can help it; they are ravishingly beautiful, don't you think so, Johnston?” “Don't be a fool,” snapped the American, “don't you know enough to hold your tongue.” Tradmos smiled as if amused, and when he had shown them to seats near the great golden throne, he said: “Stay where you are till the king sends for you, and then go and kneel before the throne. Do not rise till he bids you.” The captives thanked him and the captain turned away. The eyes of all the royal party now rested on the strangers, and it was hard for them to appear unconscious of it. A great crowd was slowly filling the room and an orchestra in a balcony on the left of the dais began to make delightful music on instruments the strangers had never before seen. After an entrancing prelude a sound of singing was heard, and far up in a grand dome, lighted like the one the captives had just admired over the central court of the palace, they saw a bevy of maidens, robed in white, moving about in mid-air, apparently unsupported by anything. “How on earth is that done?” asked Thorndyke. “I don't know,” returned Johnston, speaking more freely now that the captain had gone. “I am not surprised at anything.” “Their voices are exquisite, and that orchestra--a Boston symphony concert couldn't be compared to it.”