“Now, my dear,” said Sir John. “We must acclimatize ourselves to this new life. After, all, we can easily do that. We have been treated as honoured guests, so I must speak to the Jkak, and find out our future standing in this world.” “They speak English!” said Alan wonderingly “How is that? Surely we are the first English people who have found their way here? There can’t be a colony of Britishers in Jupiter!” The bell sounded again, and Alan went to the door. Waz-Y-Kjesta stood outside. “The Jkak is eager to see you,” said he. “If you feel strong enough and sufficiently rested, come with me and I will lead you to him.” They followed him down the stairs to the entrance hall, and through into a spacious apartment. “The Reception Room,” said the Waz. “The Jkak wishes not to be on formal terms with you—he bade me bring you to his garden room.” Through a doorway they went and out into the most glorious garden they had ever seen. Fountains splashed in the sunlight—tiny brooks gurgled over white stones, as they wound round beds of flowers. There was a riot of colour in this wonderful garden—glorious, flowering trees and shrubs abounded—creeper-covered archways were everywhere, and at the further end they could see a creeper-covered arbour, hung with exotic blooms. Inside this were easy chairs, settees and comfortable lounges. The Jkak, and Mirasu, his Jkakalata, were seated there awaiting their arrival, and rose to greet them. “Now tell us your story,” said the Jkak, “for wonderful it must be.” “First,” said Alan, who at Sir John’s request, acted as spokesman, “how is it you can understand our language? Surely English isn’t spoken here?” “English?” “Yes. We are English. We come from that part of our world that was known as England, you know.” “We have the ‘gift of tongues’ my friend,” said the Jkak. “Until we spoke to you, we had never before heard your tongue, but the moment you spoke we understood. I cannot describe our gift—it just—is. We of Keemar all speak one tongue. No confusion is here. Until you came, we had never had the opportunity to benefit from this gift we all believed we possessed. To-day, all Keemarnians are thanking Mitzor, the Great White Glory and Tower of Help, for His graciousness in having conferred upon us this gift, and for allowing us to have the means given us for using the ‘gift of tongues’. We understand, all of us. We may not understand every expression you utter, for things are different in other worlds, and we ourselves no doubt possess peculiarities of our own—still we can converse freely with you.” “It is a wonderful gift to possess,” said Sir John. “Now your story,” insisted the Jkak gently. So Alan told the whole story of his life since the time when he and Desmond first went to Marshfielden. He told of the Light, and the people of Kalvar—of their wonderful escape from the bowels of the earth, and of the end of the world.