Myles thought he understood how she felt about it, and so desisted. Probably her grief was still too poignant to bear discussion. He little guessed that her real reason was that she did not know how much confidence to place in this newcomer. “Lilla,” Cabot said, “this is Nan-nan, one of the priests of the Caves of Kar, who tended me during all my illness.” The priest bowed low before her in acknowledgment of the introduction. “You forget, dear,” Lilla declared, “that you haven’t yet told me a single thing of what has happened to you since you left Luno Castle half a year ago to fly to the Peace Day exercises, which turned out so fatally.” “When have I had time?” Myles asked, in reply. “Let’s sit right down here and begin.” But Nan-nan cut in with: “Pardon me for interrupting, O princess, and thou, O defender of the faith. But there is much work to be done. It is now night. There is fighting in the streets. You must consolidate the palace, Cabot, and hold it until your army from the north can reach Kuana.” “But what of Yuri?” asked Myles. “We must run him down before he escapes us, or there will be more villainy afoot.” Nan-nan laughed. “You yourself don’t seem to be doing very much running just this moment. But compose yourself. In spite of your many followers, who at this moment swarm every corridor of this palace, none of them dared lay hands on the person of the king. Word has just reached me that he has safely left the building, and this is why I have sought you out. Your men are now gathering in the Council Hall above.” “Then lead to the Council Hall, Nan-nan, and I follow,” the earthman replied. * * * * * As the three of them entered the great Council Hall of the palace they found it filled with a jostling leaderless throng of Cupians. Nan-nan mounted the rostrum and held up his hand. The crowd faced him and became silent. “Patriots of Kuana,” he shouted, “I present to you your leader, Myles Cabot, the beast from Minos, protector of Cupia.” Up shot every hand. “Yahoo!” they radiated, in unison, the cheery Porovian greeting. “And your rightful ruler, the Princess Lilla.” Again the salute and the shout of greeting. Cabot then joined the young priest upon the stage. In spite of his condition, there was a look in his cold gray eyes that inspired confidence and respect. “Men of Cupia,” he said, “and I can call you by no more noble title—men of Cupia, to the northward lies our army of liberation, equipped with the most modern engines of destruction. We must hold this city until they arrive. And then we must keep on until the last Formian lies dead. There is no room on any one planet for two ruling races. So it must be war to the hilt, asking no quarter, giving none, until the Kew dynasty is restored to the throne, and Cupia is made permanently free. Are you with me?” “We are,” came back the unanimous shout. “Then every pootah hold up his hand.”