“Thank you, Smith,” said the Queen. “I expect we’ll be back for luncheon, but we may not. One never knows. We meant to be back yesterday, but——”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said Smith. “Not knowing where you thought of going, I packed the basket.”
“Oh, not far,” said the Queen. “Still, we may not be back.”
Smith stood respectful as a footman who has closed his mistress’ carriage door until the boat pushed off. Then he sat down on the steps below the flagstaff and lit a pipe. It was, perhaps, an idle morning with Smith. He seemed in no hurry to go back to his work. He sat smoking and watched the boat as she crossed the harbour. He saw her reach the mouth of the cave and disappear into its depths. Soon afterwards another boat put off from the beach below the village. Smith watched it too. There was one man on board. It also headed for the mouth of the cave. Smith knocked the ashes out of his pipe, stood up and went into the palace.
Kalliope poled the boat through the narrow part of the cave, rowed her briskly across the lagoon within and beached her on the steep slope beyond. Phillips leaped ashore and held out his hand to the Queen. They stumbled a little on the round stones. It is very difficult to walk steadily over stones which roll under the feet. The Queen laid her hand on Phillips’ arm. She went more securely with this support, so she held to it, leaning a good deal of her weight on it.
“There!” she said. “Look at them. Aren’t they the most ridiculous things you ever saw?”
No doubt the tanks, with their grey fronts and great spouts sticking out of them, had an absurd appearance. They reminded Phillips of the prehistoric monsters which artists sometimes draw in our comic papers. They had the same look of stupid largeness. There was the same suggestion of gaping malevolence. In the cool blue light of the cave they looked grotesquely inappropriate. Phillips’ first impulse was to laugh aloud. But he was a young man with a conscience. It was his duty to examine the cisterns, to find out if possible what they were, not to make fun of them.
He walked up to the nearest one and turned on the tap. Nothing came out. He tried the next one with the same result. He walked along the whole line of tanks and turned on every tap. The tanks were apparently empty. Mr. Phillips picked up a stone and struck each tank several times. The sound was hollow. If there had been any doubt about that the echoes would have convinced him. There was a fusillade of hollow tappings.
Phillips, placing his foot on the tap of one of the tanks, climbed up.
“Well,” said the Queen from below. “What have you found?”