“You DO know!” cried the Rhamda joyously. “Tell me!”
“No; it is I who am asking the questions.”
Watson's mind was working like lightning. Whether it was the influence of the strange drink, or the equally strange influence of ordinary inspiration, he was never more self-assured in his life. It seemed a day for taking long chances.
“Tell me,” he inquired, “what has the Day of Life to do with the two queens and their betrothal?”
The Rhamda throttled his eagerness. “It is one of the obscure points of the prophecy. There are some scholars who hold that such a problem as this presages the coming of the end and the advent of the chosen. But others oppose this interpretation, for reasons purely material: for if the Bar Senestro should marry both queens it would make him the sole ruler of the Thomahlia. Only once before have we had a single ruler; for centuries upon centuries we have had two queens; one of the D'Hartians, and the other of the Kospians, enthroned here in the Mahovisal.”
Watson would have liked to learn far more. But the time seemed one for action on his part; bold action, and positive.
“Rhamda Geos—I do not know what is your version of the prophecy. But you are positive that no one preceded me out of the Spot?”
“I am. Why do you persist?”
“Because”—speaking slowly and with the greatest care—“because there was one greater than I, who came before me!”
The Rhamda rose excitedly to his feet, and then sank back into his chair again. In his eyes was nothing save eagerness, wonder and respect. He leaned forward.