It was only three "wakes" later when catastrophe struck.
During the interval, I had been sheltering Clay the best I could, trying to keep him disguised and hidden, laying out a future course of action. Many were our hurried little talks in which we decided that the only safety for either of us lay in the Overworld; however, since premature flight would be worse than none at all, we were making our plans coolly and deliberately. Already I had withdrawn the military guard from the tubes; I had secreted a quantity of hooks, ropes, and other climbing tackle at the base of one of the flues, which, I knew, led upward to the Overworld; I had taken steps to secure quantities of concentrated food, medical supplies, and other necessities, to be strapped in knapsacks about our backs.
But before these projects were complete, the tempest broke. Each day I had seen it brewing more threateningly, and all my efforts against it were fruitless. The report of the overthrow of the dictator of Zu and the statement that he and I had been suspected of collusion had taken dangerous fire in the public mind; demagogues, too numerous to suppress, had risen to warn the people that I was "conspiring against their interests"; and these charges, added to complaints about my conclusion of an "inglorious peace," could not but have an effect upon a public so far advanced in thoughtlessness as the people of Wu.
Worst of all my visitor from Zu, on the third "wake" after his arrival, had unwittingly betrayed me. It would be impossible, I knew, for him to stay hidden forever; but I had hardly expected him to reveal himself just when he did—not that I blame him. The whole affair was an unfortunate accident; for when he came out of the rooms where I had told him to remain, he had expected to find me alone. But alas! I was just being interviewed by a reporter for the Screamer! Too late I saw Clay, on whose face a stubbly red beard was again beginning to sprout. Too late I motioned him to retreat. The knowing gleam in the eyes of the reporter showed that he had seen all!
To threaten the journalist, to offer him a bribe, would only have been to make him more suspicious, and hence more dangerous; my only hope was that he would misinterpret what he had seen. But in this hope I was to be cheated. Only a few hours later, the Screamer appeared with a special edition, describing the "mysterious stranger" seen in the home of Luma the Illustrious—a stranger whose "foreign origin" was evident from his queer appearance. It was stated that his eyes were of an outlandish blue, and that his stubbly hair was faintly red—a color attributed to only one man in all history. Could it be that the outcast Dictator of Zu had found shelter beneath Luma's roof? Was Luma plotting with Rah the Righteous against his own people?
I have always held that the citizens of Wu cared little about Rah the Righteous; but so perilously inflamed were they that it required no more than a spark to set off the conflagration.
The storm burst over me with cataclysmic suddenness, I had been having one of my many little discussions with Clay, talking over old times and planning for the future, when I heard a tremendous thumping at the door. I opened it to admit one of the guards who entered in such excitement that he forgot the customary formality of bowing till his palm scraped the floor. His face, normally white, had grown red with agitation; his hands fluttered; his salmon eyes gaped wide with bewilderment and alarm. "Excellency!" he gasped. "Your Abysmal Excellency! Quick! The mob! The mob! Come! Look! See! Quick!"
"What's that?" I demanded, startled. "What about the mob?"
"Come! Look! See!" he repeated, starting away down the long greenish-yellow gallery.
Exchanging frightened glances, Clay and I followed in silence until we had reached the further end of the palace, where the guard lifted a little slit of stone in one of the walls—a fragment barely an inch across, just enough to permit us a peep through the thick partition, while keeping us safe from observation.