“By Jove, look at our shadows!” exclaimed Johnston, and both men gazed at the balcony floor in amazement; their shadows were as clearly defined and black as silhouettes. “How do you account for that?” continued the American, “I am firmly convinced that this sun is not the orb that shines over my native land.”
Thorndyke laughed, but his laugh was forced. “How absurd! and yet—” He extended his hand over the balustrade into the rosy glow, and without concluding his remark held it back into the shadow of the window-casement. “By Jove!” he exclaimed; “there is not a particle of warmth in it. It is exactly the same temperature in the shade as in the light.” He moved back against the wall. “No; there is no difference; the blamed thing doesn't give out any warmth.”
Johnston's hands were extended in the light. “I believe you are right,” he declared in awe, “something is wrong.”
At that moment appeared from the room behind them a handsome youth, attired in a suit of scarlet silk that fitted his athletic figure perfectly. He rapped softly on the window-casement and bowed when they turned.
“Your breakfast is waiting for you,” he announced. They followed him into a room adjoining the one they had occupied, and found a table holding a sumptuous repast. The boy gave them seats and handed them golden plates to eat upon. The fruits, wine and meats were very appetizing, and they ate with relish.
“I believe we are to be conducted to the palace of your king to-morrow,” ventured the Englishman to the boy.
The boy shook his head, but made no reply, and busied himself with removing the dishes. As they were rising from the table, they heard footsteps in the hall outside. The door opened. It was Captain Tradmos, and he was accompanied by a tall, bearded man with a leather case under his arm.
“You must undergo a medical examination,” the captain said smilingly. “It is our invariable custom, but this is by a special order from the king.”
Johnston shuddered as he looked at the odd-looking instruments the medical man was taking from the case, but Thorndyke watched his movements with phlegmatic indifference. He stood erect; threw back his shoulders; expanded his massive chest and struck it with his clenched fist in pantomimic boastfulness.
Tradmos smiled genially; but there was something curt and official in his tone when he next spoke that took the Englishman slightly aback. “You must bare your breast over your heart and lungs,” he said; and while Thorndyke was unbuttoning his shirt, he and the medical man went to the door and brought into the room a great golden bell hanging in a metallic frame.