Rapidly the scientist interpreted Seymour’s story to the king, concluding by questioning him as to his knowledge of the existence of the armoury. “I knew that there was a secret passage,” observed the king, “but it was the secret of the priests of Ramouni. None but they knew where the dead were laid. When Nordhu destroyed the last of the priests, the secret died with him.” “We must examine these caverns presently,” remarked Mervyn, attacking a fresh fungus. “Say, Tom,” Haverly drawled, after some moments of silence, “what game was the old priest playing when he took you out of the cell?” The young engineer shuddered at the question. “I remember nothing at all save having an overwhelming desire to start a gun factory,” he replied. “The hypnotic influence of the priest,” Mervyn explained. “He attempted to force me to reveal to him ‘the secret of the fire-weapons,’ as he called it. The fellow seems to have a longing for firearms. It is unfortunate you remember nothing of your experience down there, Wilson. There is evidently some work being carried on, and upon a gigantic scale, too. Who’s for a visit to the vaults?” he went on, rising. “Come, Seymour; you, as discoverer, must do the honours of the place.” “Very well,” returned the baronet, replacing his helmet, which he had removed while he rested; “but I can assure you it’s a ghostly hole. Are you coming, Chenobi?” “Ay,” returned the Ayuti; “I am minded to look upon the last resting-place of my forefathers.” With that they all moved across the temple to where the great stone door still stood ajar as Seymour had left it, and, descending the steps, passed into the armoury. Their various exclamations showed how differently they were affected by the sight of the gleaming pile of weapons. What struck Haverly most was the enormous amount of wealth represented by the jewels which studded the hilts of every sword and dagger. Wilson was attracted by the exquisite workmanship of the weapons; while Mervyn viewed them as curios, rare specimens to be consigned to some museum as the relics of an extinct race. “Marvellous!” he exclaimed again and again. “The civilisation of ancient Greece was but little ahead of these Ayutis. A marvellous race!” Chenobi, with the eye of a warrior, was examining the armour, and it was not long ere he was armed _cap-a-pie_ in the long-disused mail of his ancestors. A noble figure he looked, too, as he stood beside Seymour, smiling at the strangeness of the suit to his limbs. “Tin suits seem to be the fashion,” Haverly remarked with a grin to Wilson. “They save washing, you know,” returned the latter. “But, seriously, Silas, what the dickens is this metal? Armour, weapons, locks, and everything else seems to be made of the same non-rusting stuff, and it’s a lot harder than steel. If you remember, the wolf-men’s spears are the same; but what it is I know no more than Adam.”