pering. "For half a _va_ we go
along a way of death. From its peril we pass into another against
whose dangers I can guard you. But in part this is in view of the
roadway and it may be that Lugur will see us. If so, we must fight as
best we can. If we pass these two roads safely, then is the way to the
Crimson Sea clear, nor need we fear Lugur nor any. And there is
another thing--that Lugur does not know--when he opens the Portal the
Silent Ones will hear and Lakla and the _Akka_ will be swift to greet
its opener."

"Rador," I asked, "how know _you_ all this?"

"The handmaiden is my own sister's child," he answered quietly.

O'Keefe drew a long breath.

"Uncle," he remarked casually in English, "meet the man who's going to
be your nephew!"

And thereafter he never addressed the green dwarf except by the
avuncular title, which Rador, humorously enough, apparently conceived
to be one of respectful endearment.

For me a light broke. Plain now was the reason for his foreknowledge
of Lakla's appearance at the feast where Larry had so narrowly escaped
Yolara's spells; plain the determining factor that had cast his lot
with ours, and my confidence, despite his discourse of mysterious
perils, experienced a remarkable quickening.

Speculation as to the marked differences in pigmentation and
appearance of niece and uncle was dissipated by my consciousness that
we were now moving in a dim half-light. We were in a fairly wide
tunnel. Not far ahead the gleam filtered, pale yellow like sunlight
sifting through the leaves of autumn poplars. And as we drove closer
to its source I saw that it did indeed pass through a leafy screen
hanging over the passage end. This Rador drew aside cautiously,
beckoned us and we stepped through.

It appeared to be a tunnel cut through soft green mould. Its base was
a flat strip of pathway a yard wide from which the walls curved out in
perfect cylindrical form, smoothed and evened with utmost nicety.
Thirty feet wide they were at their widest, then drew toward each
other with no break in their symmetry; they did not close. Above was,
roughly, a ten-foot rift, ragged edged, through which poured light
like that in the heart of pale amber, a buttercup light shot through
with curiously evanescent bronze shadows.

"Quick!" commanded Rador, uneasily, and set off at a sharp pace.

Now, my eyes accustomed to the strange light, I saw that the tunnel's
walls were of moss. In them I could trace fring