"Now," he said grimly, "let the Silent Ones show their power--if they
still have it!"

And with this strange benediction, he turned back.

"For God's sake, Larry," I urged as we approached the house of the
priestess, "you'll be careful!"

He nodded--but I saw with a little deadly pang of apprehension in my
heart a puzzled, lurking doubt within his eyes.

As we ascended the serpent steps Marakinoff appeared. He gave a signal
to our guards--and I wondered what influence the Russian had attained,
for promptly, without question, they drew aside. At me he smiled
amiably.

"Have you found your friends yet?" he went on--and now I sensed
something deeply sinister in him. "No! It is too bad! Well, don't give
up hope." He turned to O'Keefe.

"Lieutenant, I would like to speak to you--alone!"

"I've no secrets from Goodwin," answered O'Keefe.

"So?" queried Marakinoff, suavely. He bent, whispered to Larry.

The Irishman started, eyed him with a certain shocked incredulity,
then turned to me.

"Just a minute, Doc!" he said, and I caught the suspicion of a wink.
They drew aside, out of ear-shot. The Russian talked rapidly. Larry
was all attention. Marakinoff's earnestness became intense; O'Keefe
interrupted--appeared to question. Marakinoff glanced at me and as his
gaze shifted from O'Keefe, I saw a flame of rage and horror blaze up
in the latter's eyes. At last the Irishman appeared to consider
gravely; nodded as though he had arrived at some decision, and
Marakinoff thrust his hand to him.

And only I could have noticed Larry's shrinking, his microscopic
hesitation before he took it, and his involuntary movement, as though
to shake off something unclean, when the clasp had ended.

Marakinoff, without another look at me, turned and went quickly
within. The guards took their places. I looked at Larry inquiringly.

"Don't ask a thing now, Doc!" he said tensely. "Wait till we get
home. But we've got to get damned busy and quick--I'll tell you that
now--"

[1] I have no space here even to outline the eschatology of this
people, nor to catalogue their pantheon. Siya and Siyana typified
worldly love. Their ritual was, however, singularly free from those
degrading elements usually found in love-cults. Priests and
priestesses of all cults dwelt in the immense seven-terraced
structure, of which the jet amphitheatre was the water side. The
symbol, icon, representation, of Siya and Siyana--the globe and the
up-strivi