But the malevolence of the jailer was not directed against me, for as he turned away, after locking me in my cell, he softly radiated the joyous information; “Any one who is an enemy of Prince Yuri has nothing to fear from Poblath.”
Then he was gone. Evidently, in spite of Yuri’s popularity, there were some Cupians who saw through him. And Poblath, the mango, must be one of these. Shortly afterwards he returned with food, and spoke softly as he placed it before me.
“‘Walls have antennae,’” he quoted, “so I will not radiate loudly to you. Be discreet. Do nothing to anger Yuri. Bide your time. And if I can be of any particular service, let me know. ‘Common enmity maketh close friends.’”
Evidently Poblath was greatly given to Porovian proverbs. About one parth (i.e., Porovian hour) later the mango brought Prince Yuri to my cell. Yuri had come to gloat over me and to give in my presence his directions for my discomfiture.
“Poblath,” he declared, “this man Cabot is a dangerous criminal. The charges against him are so serious that I must lay them in person before King Kew. Cabot is a deaf-mute, born without antennae; but he has concocted, with diabolical cleverness, some artificial electrical antennae. No one is to be permitted to talk with him; and, to make sure of this, I now command you to take from him his apparatus.”
My jaw dropped with horror at the thought; but the jailer quickly came to my rescue.
“Oh, sire,” he said, “the ancient law! I will see that no communication is had with him, but the ancient law prohibits depriving any person of his antennae.”
Yuri replied: “This is not a person; it is an animal. And furthermore, his apparatus is not antennae, strictly speaking.”
Poblath was equal to the occasion. “The ancient law applies equally to animals, as you well know, my prince. And, as for his antennae, they are antennae to me, unless King Kew rules otherwise.”
“Leave his antennae, then,” snapped Yuri, “and remove his belt.”