“No,” he answered, “there is only one ruler in Alaria.”
“Conrad?” John asked.
“No, the Black Ghost,” the doctor answered, and laughed.
“And who is the Black Ghost?” I asked, “does anyone know? Is he just a bandit chief, or an Alarian in good standing who plays this part as a side issue?”
The doctor frowned. “There must be some who know,” he said, “but they do not tell. The great mass of the people believe he is really the old crusader, Fakat Zol. Even many of his followers believe that. If it were not so he would have no power. As it is, if that statue of the Holy Virgin should step down from the front of the church and the Black Ghost said it was a trick of the devil, the people would believe the Black Ghost.” He tied the end of the bandage, and began putting away his instruments.
“Thank you,” John said, “and now we must go back to our car. Alarian politics are not for us, even though a prophet and the ghost of a crusader are about to do battle before our eyes. I’d like to see it so I could tell about it when we’re home again where things like that don’t happen. Still, we started for Herrovosca, and as soon as this meeting breaks up enough to let us through the streets, we must go on. Also, our car will be robbed if we leave it alone.”
“Two Americans going to Herrovosca in a car,” the doctor said ruminatively.
“Yes,” John answered, “thanks for doing my arm—if you’ll let us settle our bill now—”
The noise in the square was increasing momentarily. The prophet’s voice was no longer audible above the shouts of the townsfolk. Suddenly a stone crashed through a window not far away. We could hear the breaking glass, and then the storm broke. The doctor turned to us, “You had better wait here,” he said, “it won’t be safe for you to go out, even by the back way. Besides, you gentlemen have not yet explained to me this gunshot wound. The only bandits of the mountains are Fakat Zol’s men. They do not fire on harmless travellers. In order that you may remain here quite safely I will lock the door as I go out.” He smiled, not pleasantly, and went out quite suddenly. The key turned in the lock on the other side of the door. I started to intercept him, but since I had been standing by the window and he had been beside the door while he spoke, I was too late. We were prisoners again.
“If,” said John, “we ever get back to a slightly less hospitable country I shall feel lonely and neglected. This sound of keys that turn in locks has grown to be a familiar lullaby.”