But when the sound of their return had ceased she stared tensely at the Irishman--then looked again at the shattered vase. "It is true!" she cried, "but see, the Keth is--alive!" I followed her pointing finger. Each broken bit of the crystal was vibrating, shaking its particles out into space. Broken it the bullet of Larry's had--but not released it from the grip of the disintegrating force. The priestess's face was triumphant. "But what matters it, O shining urn of beauty--what matters it to the vase that is broken what happens to its fragments?" asked Larry, gravely--and pointedly. The triumph died from her face and for a space she was silent; brooding. "Next," whispered O'Keefe to me. "Lots of surprises in the little box; keep your eye on the opening and see what comes out." We had not long to wait. There was a sparkle of anger about Yolara, something too of injured pride. She clapped her hands; whispered to the maid who answered her summons, and then sat back regarding us, maliciously. "You have answered me as to your strength--but you have not proved it; but the Keth you have answered. Now answer this!" she said. She pointed out into the garden. I saw a flowering branch bend and snap as though a hand had broken it--but no hand was there! Saw then another and another bend and break, a little tree sway and fall--and closer and closer to us came the trail of snapping boughs while down into the garden poured the silvery light revealing--nothing! Now a great ewer beside a pillar rose swiftly in air and hurled itself crashing at my feet. Cushions close to us swirled about as though in the vortex of a whirlwind. And unseen hands held my arms in a mighty clutch fast to my sides, another gripped my throat and I felt a needle-sharp poniard point pierce my shirt, touch the skin just over my heart! "Larry!" I cried, despairingly. I twisted my head; saw that he too was caught in this grip of the invisible. But his face was calm, even amused. "Keep cool, Doc!" he said. "Remember--she wants to learn the language!" Now from Yolara burst chime upon chime of mocking laughter. She gave a command--the hands loosened, the poniard withdrew from my heart; suddenly as I had been caught I was free--and unpleasantly weak and shaky. "Have you _that_ in Ireland, Larree!" cried the priestess--and once more trembled with laughter. "A good play, Yolara." His voice was as calm as his face. "But they did that in Ireland even before Dalua piped away his first man's shadow. And in Goodwin's land they make ships--coria that go on water--so you can pass by them and see only sea and sky; and those water coria are each of them many times greater than this whole palace of yours." But the priestess laughed on. "It did get me a little," whispered Larry. "That wasn't quite up to my mark. But God! If we could find that trick out and take it back with us!" "Not so, Larree!" Yolara gasped, through her laughter. "Not so! Goodwin's cry betrayed you!"