buried the Kings of the Sons
of Wisdom. They lie beneath, each in his sepulchre. Its entrance is
yonder," and she pointed to what seemed to be a chapel on the right.
"Would you wish to see them?"

"Somehow I don't care to," said Bastin. "The place is dreary enough as
it is without the company of a lot of dead kings."

"I should like to dissect one of them, but I suppose that would not be
allowed," said Bickley.

"No," she answered. "I think that the Lord Oro would not wish you to cut
up his forefathers."

"When you and he went to sleep, why did you not choose the family
vault?" asked Bastin.

"Would you have found us there?" she queried by way of answer. Then,
understanding that the invitation was refused by general consent, though
personally I should have liked to accept it, and have never ceased
regretting that I did not, she moved towards a colossal object which
stood beneath the centre of the dome.

On a stepped base, not very different from that in the cave but much
larger, sat a figure, draped in a cloak on which was graved a number of
stars, doubtless to symbolise the heavens. The fastening of the cloak
was shaped like the crescent moon, and the foot-stool on which rested
the figure's feet was fashioned to suggest the orb of the sun. This
was of gold or some such metal, the only spot of brightness in all that
temple. It was impossible to say whether the figure were male or female,
for the cloak falling in long, straight folds hid its outlines. Nor did
the head tell us, for the hair also was hidden beneath the mantle and
the face might have been that of either man or woman. It was terrible in
its solemnity and calm, and its expression was as remote and mystic as
that of Buddha, only more stern. Also without doubt it was blind; it was
impossible to mistake the sightlessness of those staring orbs. Across
the knees lay a naked sword and beneath the cloak the arms were hidden.
In its complete simplicity the thing was marvelous.

On either side upon the pedestal knelt a figure of the size of life. One
was an old and withered man with death stamped upon his face; the other
was a beautiful, naked woman, her hands clasped in the attitude of
prayer and with vague terror written on her vivid features.

Such was this glorious group of which the meaning could not be mistaken.
It was Fate throned upon the sun, wearing the constellations as his
garment, armed with the sword of Destiny and worshipped by Life and
Death.