Then he told how he had gotten rid of Quivven for the evening by sending her with a note to Arkilu. Jud’s brow darkened.
“But,” Myles insisted, “that note will serve a three-fold purpose; first, it has enabled me undetected to pay this visit to you; secondly, it will allay Arkilu’s suspicions; and thirdly, it will stir you to block my appearance before Theoph to-morrow.”
“Oh, I would have done that anyhow,” Jud insisted. “My plans are all made. I shall send a runner to Theoph, and warn him to search Arkilu’s room for your note. When he finds the note he will certainly cancel the arrangements for your performance. Thus will the note serve a fourth purpose.
“Return now to your quarters, and I will send you word of the outcome.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Myles admonished. “For a message from you would reveal to our fair young spy the fact of my secret interview with you this evening. Let Theoph himself send the word.”
“So be it. You may count on starting on your expedition to-morrow as planned. Good luck to you.”
“Good luck to you, Jud the Great, and may you win Arkilu the Beautiful.”
So the earth-man hastened back to his quarters, where Quivven, on her return, found him placidly reclining on a divan.
For a few minutes they chatted playfully together, and then she suddenly narrowed her eyelids, looked at him with a peculiar expression, and asked: “Aren’t you the least bit anxious to know what answer Arkilu made to your note?”
That was so; he had written Arkilu a note; but now that it had served its purpose he had completely forgotten about it. How could he square himself with little Quivven? By flattery?