“There goes the sunlight again,” cried Johnston, “by Jove, it is blue!” The transition was sublime. They seemed transported to some other scene. The great multitude, the elegantly-dressed attendants about the throne, the courtiers, the beautiful women, all seemed to change in appearance; on the view through the wide doors leading to the conservatory, and the great swarming court beyond, the soft blue light fell like a filmy veil of enchantment. “Wonderful!” exclaimed the American. “It is ahead of our clocks, anyway,” jested Thorndyke. “Any child that can count on its fingers could tell that this is the fifth hour of the day.” The music grew louder; there was a harmonious blare of mighty trumpets, the clang of gongs and cymbals, and then the music softened till it could scarcely be heard. There was commotion about the throne. The king was coming. Every person on the dais stood motionless, expectant. A page drew aside the rich curtain from a door on the right, and an old man, wearing a robe of scarlet ornamented with jewels and a crown set with sparkling gems, entered and seated himself on the throne. The music sank lower; so soft did it become that the tinkling bells of the great fountain outside could be heard throughout the room. The king bowed to the throng on the dais and spoke a few words to a courtier who advanced as he sat down. The courtier must have spoken of them, for the king at once looked down at Johnston and Thorn-dyke and nodded his head. The courtier spoke to a page, and the youth left the dais and came toward the captives. “We are in for it,” cautioned Thorndyke, “now don't be afraid of your shadow; we'll come out all right.” “The king has sent for you,” said the page, the next instant. “Go to the throne.” They were the cynosure of the entire room as they went up the carpeted steps of the dais and knelt before the king. Chapter VI. “Rise!” commanded the king, in a deep, well-modulated voice, and when they had arisen he inspected them critically, his eyes lingering on Thorndyke. “You look as if you take life easily; you have a jovial countenance,” he said cordially. Thorndyke returned his smile and at once felt at ease. “There is no use in taking it any other way,” he said; “it doesn't amount to much at best.” “You are wrong,” returned the king, playing with the jewels on his robe, “that is because you have been reared as you have--in your unsystematic world. Here we make life a serious study. It is our object to assist nature in all things. The efforts of your people amount to nothing because they are not carried far enough. Your scientists are dreaming idiots. They are continually groping after the ideal and doing nothing with the positive. It was for us to carry out everything to perfection. Show me where we can make a single improvement and you shall become a prince.” “If my life depended on that, my head would be off this instant,” was the quick-witted reply of the Englishman.