it. The eyes belonged to a
cautious doorkeeper, who after satisfying himself that the visitors were
not enemies admitted the Brazilian and the Lur into a vaulted brick
vestibule. Then, having looked to his wards and bolts, he lighted Magin
through a corridor which turned into a low tunnel-like passage. This led
into a sort of cloister, where a covered ambulatory surrounded a dark
pool of stars. Thence another passage brought them out into a great open
court. Here an invisible jet of water made an illusion of coolness in
another, larger, pool, overlooked by a portico of tall slim pillars.
Between them Magin caught the glow of a cigar.

"Good evening, Ganz," his bass voice called from the court.

"Heaven! Is that you?" replied the smoker of the cigar. "What are you
doing here, in God's name? I imagined you at Mohamera, by this time, or
even in the Gulf." This remark, it may not be irrelevant to say, was in
German--as spoken in the trim town of Zurich.

"And so I should have been," replied the polyglot Magin in the same
language, mounting the steps of the portico and shaking his friend's
hand, "but for--all sorts of things. If we ran aground once, we ran
aground three thousand times. I begin to wonder if we shall get through
the reefs at Ahwaz--with all the rubbish I have on board."

"Ah, bah! You can manage, going down. But why do you waste your time in
Shuster, with all that is going on in Europe?"

"H'm!" grunted Magin. "What is going on in Europe? A great family is
wearing well cut mourning, and a small family is beginning to turn
green! How does that affect two quiet nomads in Elam--especially when
one of them is a Swiss and one a Brazilian?" He laughed, and lighted a
cigar the other offered him. "My dear Ganz, it is an enigma to me how a
man who can listen to such a fountain, and admire such stars, can
perpetually sigh after the absurdities of Europe! Which reminds me that
I met an Englishman this morning."

"Well, what of that? Are Englishmen so rare?"

"Alas, no--though I notice, my good Ganz, that you do your best to thin
them out! This specimen was too typical for me to be able to describe
him. Younger than usual, possibly; yellow hair, blue eyes, constrained
manner, everything to sample. He called himself Mark, or Matthew. Rather
their apostolic air, too--except that he was in the Oil Company's
motor-boat. But he gave me to understand that he was not in the Oil
Company."

"Quite so."

"I saw for mysel