Could that calm, contained voice have come from Emmet Gilhooly? I looked in his direction and found him leaning against a jutting spur of rocks, his right hand clutching convulsively the black stone I had flung from me.
The crazed light had vanished from his eyes. An expression of wonder was on his face, but it was a rational wonder developed by an awakening as abrupt and complete as mine had been.
"You have it right, Mr. Gilhooly," I answered, the extreme mildness of my voice surprising me. "My full name is James Peter Munn and——"
"You are the thief who just came into the castle and relieved myself and my friends of their valuables?"
Gilhooly's normal condition had come back to him at the point where it had been dropped. I was not slow in reasoning how this might be.
"I was a thief in the letter and spirit less than ten minutes back," I humbly answered, "but now, sir, I have turned a leaf. I promise you that the rest of the book shall read better than what has gone before."
Gilhooly passed his left hand across his forehead.
"Where—where am I?" he faltered.
"In the kingdom of Baigadd," I returned, "some distance out of the royal city."
"Baigadd? Royal city? You talk strangely, Mr. Munn. Where is the castle? Where are Meigs, Markham, and Popham? And Professor Quinn? Are we";—he started forward and looked wildly around—"still in the castle? But no, that can't be. You just said we were somewhere else. I beg your pardon, Mr. Munn. I am confused and hardly know what I am saying."