“You’ve killed me,” he sobbed in rage. “Why couldn’t you have stayed up there till Sanson has made us all immortal? I’m going to the Comfortable Bedroom now, and my body will die like a beast’s, and I’ll be ended.” And he broke into atrocious curses, while the crowd screamed with delight and mocked his passion. The little gate on the inner side of the fort opened, and a troop of the Guard emerged, carrying a stretcher. At the sight of them the mob scuttled away. The guards picked up the body and carried it within the gate. One began scattering sand. Out of the crowd leaped an old man with flowing hair and beard. He stood out in the court and shook his fist toward the Temple dome. “Woe to you, accursed city!” he screamed. “Woe to you in the day of judgment! Woe to your whites and harlots when the judgment comes!” The crystal door banged and clashed open. A woman in white put out her hand and closed it. A latch-click pricked the air. The sun gilded the dome and turned it to a ball of fire. Down in the court the madman cried unceasingly. [Illustration: “Woe to you, accursed city!” he screamed. “Woe to you in the day of judgment! Woe to your whites and harlots when the judgment comes!” ] CHAPTER XIII THE PALACE OF PALMS The sun dipped behind the western buildings, and the glare of the glow on fort and Temple and encircling wall was like phosphorescent fire. I saw the guards stirring in their enclosure. The Airscouts’ Fortress shone, hard and brilliant, against the sky. I gathered my wits together. I had seen the hidden things, and, because I knew of none other to whom to turn, I resolved to appeal to David. Esther, the prey of these insane degenerates when she awakened ... David’s own secret troubles ... could we not aid each other? Might not two men accomplish something in these evil days? I turned to the right across the bridge that led to the Airscouts’ Fortress. The sentinel stood still, watching me. He raised his Ray rod, not to threaten me, but to salute, and I remembered that the airscouts had no love for the Guard, and hence must be under Lembken’s control. He took me for a priest. But the weapon shook in his hand, and the astonishment upon his face matched that on mine. I recognized the man Jones, who had brought me to London. “I want to leave this hell!” I cried. “Which way? Which way?” “You want—you want—?” he stammered. “The Strangers’ House. I am lost here—” He looked at me in utter perplexity. “Help me!” I pleaded. “Show me the way!” The door behind him opened, and there stepped out a man of about fifty years, dressed in white, with a golden swan on each shoulder. Jones stepped aside and saluted him. The newcomer approached me. His hard, clean-shaven face was impenetrable, and his eyes burned with a dull fire. Behind him crept a second figure; it was the old priest. “There he is! Seize him!” he shrieked.