The promised audience with Philipson was the better part of a week in coming, but at last, one morning just after we had finished eating, Kalliboas came to announce the King was waiting us. We were swiftly carried in litters to the royal palace, where we mounted the magnificent marble steps, and passed into an outer hall, and there, at the bidding of Kalliboas, took off our sandals and followed him to the inner apartments. Kalliboas immediately threw himself on to his face, signalling us to do likewise. It seemed a pretty squalid thing to grovel in this fashion to a man with whom we had travelled so far on a footing of perfect comradeship, but I think we both realised it would be a bad move to demur. We heard light steps across the hall, and felt ourselves touched on the shoulder. There stood Saunders Philipson before us, his long white robes setting off his face and figure to admiration. He greeted us with that wonderful grace he always had, bade Kalliboas go, and a moment later was chatting with us as frankly and informally as if the strange wheelings of fortune of the past weeks had never been. He had motioned us to the lawn-covered couches of the apartment, three of which were laid so close together in a triangle that we could speak quite comfortably without raising our voices. We talked English. 'How do you find yourselves?' was Philipson's first question. 'We are very well looked after,' I said. 'But we ought rather to inquire for your health. You caught it pretty hot in the snow-slide, Philipson.' He seemed to cast his mind back, as if to something that had happened a great while ago. 'Ah, yes,' he said. 'The avalanche. If it had not been for my two faithful comrades I do not know that I should be here now. I have heard how you got the search party and found me. That adds one more to the already long list of services for which I have to thank you.' 'We did little,' said Poyning. 'But the doctors who attended you did much. It amazed us, Philipson, to see the way you recovered.' As Poyning spoke I saw him raise his head. His eyes opened in a wild glare of stupefaction. He was looking at something over my shoulder. Then I swung round on my couch, and looked for myself, and came near fainting. _The Chinese servants, Ah Sing and Lo Eng, stood behind me._ CHAPTER XI THE HALL OF WANDERING SOULS I rose to my feet and swayed like a drunken man, a furious throbbing in my temples and buzzing in my ears. For an instant I fancied we were the victims of an illusion; yet the men looked solid enough, and there was no doubting the way Ah Sing dropped a knee to the floor and saluted us with his old ingratiating grin. Philipson turned to the servants. 'You are to speak to Mr. Mirlees,' he said, 'and convince him you are real.' 'You, Lo Eng,' I said, 'do you remember what happened to you?'