“Follow me,” said the captain stiffly, for there were several guards in
white and gold uniforms pacing to and fro on the battlement-like walls.
He led the two adventurers through a door in the base of the dome. At
first they were dazed by a brilliant light from above, and looking
up they beheld a marvel of kaleidoscopic colors formed by a myriad of
electric-lighted prisms sloping gradually from the floor to the apex
of the dome. Thorndyke could compare it to nothing but a stupendous
diamond, the very heart of which the eye penetrated.
“Don't look at it now,” advised Tradmos, in an undertone; “it was
constructed to be seen from below, and to light the great rotunda.”
Mutely the captives obeyed. At every turn they were greeted with a new
wonder. The captain now led them round a narrow balcony on the inside of
the vast dome, and, looking over the railing down below, they saw a vast
tessellated pavement made of polished stones of various and brilliant
colors and so artistically arranged that, from where they stood,
lifelike pictures of landscapes seemed to rise to meet the vision
wherever the eye rested. Statues of white marble, gold and bronze were
placed here and there, and, in squares of living green, fountains threw
up streams of crystal water. Tradmos paused for them to look down and
smiled at their evident admiration.
“How far is it down there?” Thorndyke ventured to ask.
“Over a thousand feet,” replied Tradmos. “Look across opposite and you
will see that there are fifty floors beneath us, and each floor has a
balcony like this overlooking the court.”
“What is the sound that comes up from below?” asked the Englishman.
“It is the voices of the people and their footsteps on the stone.”
“What people?”
“Don't you see them? Your eyes are dazzled by the light; I ought to have
warned you against looking up into the dome. The people are down there;
do the views in the pavement not look a little blurred?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you will look more closely you will see that it is a multitude
of people.”
“Great heavens!” exclaimed the Englishman, and he became deeply absorbed
in the contemplation of the rarest sight he had ever seen. As he looked
closely he noticed a black spot growing larger and nearer, and he
glanced inquiringly at the captain.
“It is an elevator. There are a great many of them used in the palace,
but none have happened to rise as high as this since we came. The one
you see is coming for us.” The next moment the strange vehicle was
floating toward them. The captain opened the door and preceded the
captives into the interior.
“The royal audience chamber,” he said, carelessly, to the driver behind
the glass of the adjoining compartment, and down they floated as lightly
as a bubble--down past balcony after balcony, laden with moving throngs,
until they alighted in a great conservatory.
Near them was a tall fountain the water of which was playing weird music
on great bells of glass, some of which hung in the fountain's stream
and others rose and fell, giving forth strange, submerged tones in the
foaming basin.
“It is a new invention recently placed here by the king's son who is a
musical genius,” explained Tradmos. “You will be astonished at some of
his inventions.”
He led them, as if to avoid the great crowds that they could now hear
on all sides, down a long vista of palms, the branches of which met over
their heads, to the wide door of the audience chamber. A party of men
dressed in uniforms of white silk with gold and silver ornaments bowed
before the captain and made way for him.
The captives now found themselves in the most splendid and spacious room
they had ever seen, at the far end of which was a long dais and on it an
elaborate throne.
“I shall be obliged to leave you when the king comes,” said Tradmos to
Thorndyke, “but I shall hope to see you again. Don't forget my name and
rank, for I may send you a message some time that may aid you.” “Thank
you,” replied the Englishman, and then as a throng of beautiful young
women came from a room on the side and gathered about the throne he
added inquisitively: “Who are they?”
“The wives and daughters of the king and the wives of the princes,” was
the cautious answer, “but don't look at any one of them closely.”
“I don't see how a fellow can help it; they are ravishingly beautiful,
don't you think so, Johnston?”
“Don't be a fool,” snapped the American, “don't you know enough to hold
your tongue.”
Tradmos smiled as if amused, and when he had shown them to seats near
the great golden throne, he said:
“Stay where you are till the king sends for you, and then go and kneel
before the throne. Do not rise till he bids you.”
The captives thanked him and the captain turned away. The eyes of all
the royal party now rested on the strangers, and it was hard for them to
appear unconscious of it. A great crowd was slowly filling the room
and an orchestra in a balcony on the left of the dais began to make
delightful music on instruments the strangers had never before seen.
After an entrancing prelude a sound of singing was heard, and far up in
a grand dome, lighted like the one the captives had just admired over
the central court of the palace, they saw a bevy of maidens, robed in
white, moving about in mid-air, apparently unsupported by anything.
“How on earth is that done?” asked Thorndyke.
“I don't know,” returned Johnston, speaking more freely now that the
captain had gone. “I am not surprised at anything.”
“Their voices are exquisite, and that orchestra--a Boston symphony
concert couldn't be compared to it.”
“There goes the sunlight again,” cried Johnston, “by Jove, it is blue!”
The transition was sublime. They seemed transported to some other scene.
The great multitude, the elegantly-dressed attendants about the throne,
the courtiers, the beautiful women, all seemed to change in appearance;
on the view through the wide doors leading to the conservatory, and the
great swarming court beyond, the soft blue light fell like a filmy veil
of enchantment.
“Wonderful!” exclaimed the American.
“It is ahead of our clocks, anyway,” jested Thorndyke. “Any child that
can count on its fingers could tell that this is the fifth hour of the
day.”
The music grew louder; there was a harmonious blare of mighty trumpets,
the clang of gongs and cymbals, and then the music softened till it
could scarcely be heard. There was commotion about the throne.
The king was coming. Every person on the dais stood motionless,
expectant. A page drew aside the rich curtain from a door on the right,
and an old man, wearing a robe of scarlet ornamented with jewels and a
crown set with sparkling gems, entered and seated himself on the throne.
The music sank lower; so soft did it become that the tinkling bells of
the great fountain outside could be heard throughout the room.
The king bowed to the throng on the dais and spoke a few words to a
courtier who advanced as he sat down. The courtier must have spoken of
them, for the king at once looked down at Johnston and Thorn-dyke and
nodded his head. The courtier spoke to a page, and the youth left the
dais and came toward the captives.
“We are in for it,” cautioned Thorndyke, “now don't be afraid of your
shadow; we'll come out all right.”
“The king has sent for you,” said the page, the next instant. “Go to the
throne.”
They were the cynosure of the entire room as they went up the carpeted
steps of the dais and knelt before the king.