"But not wholly!" was the prompt reply.
"Is it that force you speak of—the force which guards your city—that has struck them down?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Then why was I not also struck down?"
"Because you are what you are!" Then—after a silence—"You are Morgana!"
At this every nerve in her body started quivering like harp strings pulled by testing fingers. The unseen speaker knew her name!—and uttered it with a soft delicacy that made it sound more than musical. She leaned forward, extending a hand as though to touch the invisible.
"How do you know me?" she asked.
"As we all know you,"—came the answer—"Even as YOU have known the inside of a sun-ray!"
She listened, amazed—utterly mystified. Whoever or whatever it was that spoke knew not only her name, but the trend of her earliest studies and theories. The "inside of a sun-ray"! This was what she had only the other day explained to Father Aloysius as being her first experience of real happiness! She tried to set her thoughts in order—to realise her position. Here she was, a fragile human thing, in a flying ship of her own design, held fast by atmospheric force above an unknown city situate somewhere in the Great Desert,—and some one in that city was conversing with her by a method of "wireless" as yet undiscovered by admitted science,—yet communication was perfect and words distinct. Following up the suggestion presented to her she said—
"You are speaking to me in English. Are you all English folk in your city?"