"The first gleam of day, Mr. Munn," said he, bending over me with a
quiet smile.
I rubbed my eyes and got the cobwebs out of my brain. Yes, it was the
first gleam of day--our last day.
We were in an open square in the heart of a diminutive city. From every
side radiated trim little streets bordered thickly with white dwellings.
In front of us was a palace, rising dome upon dome until it stood full
thirty feet high. Inhabitants of the royal city were already abroad,
walking rapidly or gathering in groups and using their word-boxes
excitedly.
"Toot! toot! Ting-a-ling-a-ling!"
The familiar sounds came from a distance, and I sprang erect and with
the professor gazed in the direction from which they reached us.
Presently Gilhooly came along with a loaded train.
He halted in front of the palace, the passengers disembarked and
Gilhooly bent over the cars, picked them up carefully and turned them
the other way along the V-shaped groove.
"All aboard!" he cried, and a minute later he was off and away.
"Poor Gilhooly!" murmured Quinn. "He is bringing excursionists to
witness our execution. I am glad that he does not know what he is doing
and that Meigs is asleep."
Quinn laid his hand on my shoulder.
"I deeply regret, Mr. Munn," he went on, "that I am the indirect cause
of Gilhooly's lunacy. It was a great surprise to me to find that his
intellect was not strong enough to withstand the ordeal to which I
subjected it."
"It couldn't be helped, professor," I returned. "It was a grand idea of
yours--that of abducting these trust magnates and placing them where
they could do no harm to the poor of our planet. What though one mind
has been wrecked? Better that than the misery and enslavement of
hundreds of thousands."
"Mr. Munn," said the professor with feeling, "I thank you. Such words
from a companion who is about to suffer jointly with me the extreme
penalty prove that you are a man of parts and fitted for a nobler walk
in life than the one you have heretofore taken. I am very, very sorry
that you are to be cut off so soon."
Quinn was fortitude itself, his courage born of a knowledge of duty well
done. I am prone to believe, also, that I myself was not less firm,
although a less laudable cause lay back of it.
The square, I should judge, measured about two hundred feet on each
side. While the professor and I were engaged in talk, sight-seers had
been gathering in the streets, keeping carefully to the sidewalk
boundaries of the open space.
Every eye was turned upon the professor and myself and the sleeping
Meigs. The broker was snoring dismally, the sound rumbling above the
babble of the word-boxes and echoing through the adjacent thoroughfares.
"What has happened to the executioner-general?" I said to the professor.
"He isn't very punctual in keeping his engagement with us, it seems to
me. We have had daylight for an hour."
"Something has gone wrong, Mr. Munn," Quinn answered, taking note of a
ripple of excitement that ran through the crowds around us. "Ah! Here
comes the high chief of the military forces. He has his word-box ready,
so I suppose he is going to explain."
The high chief was pushing through the throng into the square, two of
his hands holding a word-box and the other two a zetbai. Advancing upon
us, he halted just without the ring.
"Be patient, gentlemen," he said through his talk machine. "You will
not be kept waiting much longer."
"We are not so wildly impatient as you seem to think," I sent back at
him; whereupon he tittered a little with Key 7.
Seeing that I was getting ready to use the same key for a few
expletives, the professor made haste to break in.
"What has happened?" he asked.
"It has just been discovered that there is no white paint in the king's
storehouse," replied the high chief.
"What is the white paint to be used for?" came curiously from the
professor.
"The executioner-general is obliged by law to give himself a fresh coat
of white paint at every execution. It would be impossible for him to
perform his function without first complying with the statute."
"Could not some one else, who has been freshly decorated, do the work in
his stead?" I inquired, somewhat flippantly.
"No," answered the high chief. "He is the only one in the kingdom who
is duly empowered to execute criminals. Our executioner is a proud
person, and jealous of the prerogatives of his office. He receives no
less than two kanos for every happy dispatch that he performs. In this
case he will be the richer by six kanos, so you will understand how
anxious he is to have everything done as it should be."
A kano was the equivalent of a half cent of our own money; so that our
one-time millionaire, Mr. J. Archibald Meigs, was to yield up his
valuable life and help swell the executioner-general's income to the
extent of a single copper. Had he been awake, I should have explained
the matter to him so that he might have still further expatiated upon
the irony of fate.
This kingdom of Baigadd differed from the other kingdom with which we
had already made acquaintance in one material respect: The surface of
the country had shrunk much farther from the outer crust of the planet.
In Baigol, for instance, we were always able to see the vault that
covered us; but in Baigadd the sight reached into nothing but empty
space.
Shortly after the high chief had finished speaking there came a flourish
of word-boxes from the direction of the palace. Turning our eyes toward
that point we beheld two resplendent soldiers in turrets to right and
left of the richly hung balcony.
"Hail to our munificent sovereign, Gaddbai, ruler of the realm and
mightiest monarch of Njambai!"
Thus the paeans of the soldiers.
The words were echoed by the crowd, and a surging roar went up from the
talking machines: "Hail to his majesty, King Gaddbai!"
On the heels of the tumult the kaka draperies parted at the rear of the
royal balcony and the king appeared, bowed and seated himself. He had a
reserved seat for the performance and could see everything that took
place.
"Let the executioner-general stand forth, prepare himself for his work
and then proceed--all in the royal presence!"
Instantly the master of ceremonies put in an appearance. He wore a
white kirtle, carried himself with a lordly air, and was followed by a
retinue of attendants.
Two of the attendants bore the official zetbais; another carried the
official word-box; four more were dragging a cart on spherical
wheels--an open cart laden with an object that startled us.
"Great heavens, Mr. Munn!" gasped the professor. "Unless my eyes deceive
me, the executioner-general is having my tub of anti-gravity compound
hauled after him!"
"Your eyes do not deceive you, sir," I made answer.
"But what in the world are they going to do with it?"
"We shall be able to tell in a few moments. Look! The executioner takes
his word-box and kneels; he is about to address the king."
"Your majesty," said the executioner-general through his talking
machine, "your slave craves your indulgence in the matter of preparing
for this happy dispatch. The supply of the official pigment is quite
exhausted, and it has been found necessary to fall back upon the white
paint that was found in the dwelling recently fallen from the top of the
crater."
"Will it answer the purpose?" demanded the king.
"It is white, your majesty, and of proper consistency. So far as I can
see, it will answer the purpose well."
"Then proceed with your preparations. I would have this matter over
with as quick as possible."
Of course Quinn and I understood all this. I knew that the professor
was meditating a final appeal to the king, and he shot a strange look at
me as his trembling hands lifted his word-box.
"Before the executioner-general proceeds, your majesty," remarked the
professor, his fingers none too steady, "will you allow me a word?"
His majesty gave an exclamation of surprise.
"Where have you learned our language?" he inquired.
"In Baigol, your majesty. We come from that country on a visit to you,
under the protection of the royal banner of Golbai."
The professor nodded to me and I shook out the banner and held it aloft.
"My royal friend," said Gaddbai, "should have been more particular in
choosing the subjects he sends to visit my realm. The sleeping
colossus, in the ring with you raided my storehouse, and you sought to
save him from capture. For that lawless act death has been decreed to
all three of you, and the sentence must be carried out."
"But we were ignorant of the law," pleaded the professor.
"Ignorance of the law is no excuse."
"The gentleman in the red kirtle is a friend of ours----"
"If we know a person by the company he keeps, that speaks ill for you,"
interrupted the sovereign.
"You are determined to have us slain, your majesty?"
"It is my royal will."
"Then I shall have to set forces at work to combat the royal will," said
the professor calmly.
Cries of consternation and anger went up on every hand. The king rose
wrathfully from his seat.
"You dare to dispute my authority?" he demanded.
"I dare to dispute your ability to slay us," returned Quinn. "Your
executioner will disappear from before your eyes if he attempts it."
The king laughed ironically.
"We shall see," he said, sinking placidly back on his seat. "Let the
executioner-general proceed with his preparations."
I was greatly pleased with the drift of affairs. Circumstances had
conspired to favor us, and the professor was making the most of his
opportunity.
The executioner-general motioned to one of his attendants and then
raised his four hands above his head. A moment later the attendant had
seized the whitewash brush, dabbed it into the anti-gravity compound,
and with two quick strokes had covered the executioner's chest and back.
Had a third stroke been needed it could not have been given. In a flash
the official had been snatched away, vanishing like a streak of white in
the void above.
The king rose gasping, clutching at the balcony rail. The throng around
us was paralyzed for a space, and not a word-box was heard.
As for Quinn, he had struck an attitude, his left hand raised aloft and
his glittering, bead-like eyes transfixing the king.
*CHAPTER XIII.*
*A THREATENING CALAMITY.*
And through all this J. Archibald Meigs slept placidly on. Presently a
perfect roar of awe and dismay broke from thousands of word-boxes. In
the midst of the hubbub the king could be seen waving his hands to
command silence and attention. The glittering soldiers in the turrets
sounded a clarion warning and silence fell once more.
"Marvelous are the powers of these colossi!" cried the king with
trembling voice. "The sleeping thief receives my royal pardon; the
offense of his two friends, in attempting to succor him, is condoned.
From now henceforth these three are my honored guests! Let all take
heed!"