In vain the Doctor stammered words of apology, but the venerable lama seemed not to hear.
Striding toward his entranced subordinate, he made a few hasty passes about his head, whereupon the lama’s eyes were opened and he staggered to his feet, reeling like one intoxicated; most surely would he have fallen had not Padma caught him in his arms.
“Speak to him! Pacify him!” I whispered to the Doctor. “Our lives depend wholly upon him.”
“Can’t do it,” was the reply. “Better wait until he has quieted down a bit. He is too furious to listen to any explanation now.”
Fatal error! That the Doctor lived to repent his decision we shall presently see.
But the opportunity was lost, for without speaking again, Padma, still supporting the young lama, retreated in the direction of his own quarters and we were left alone.
I hastened to light the lamp, for the fire was now dying down; as I did so I instinctively glanced at Maurice’s face and thought I could discern a change.
I shouted to the Doctor, and held the lamp closer.
Just then Walla roused up, rubbed her eyes and in a trembling voice asked what the matter was; the Doctor put the same question, for he was already at my side.
“Look! look!” I exclaimed. “Moisture on the forehead!”
“Don’t deceive yourself, George; it is all your excited imagination. No! By the gods, it’s a fact!”
At the same instant I felt a rush of cold air pass my face and even as we looked the eyelids began to twitch.
We gazed in breathless silence. I could see Walla’s big, black orbs dilate. I could hear the quick beating of my own heart.
Suddenly a convulsive shudder was seen to pass over the body; the eyes opened and fixed themselves upon mine.
“Maurice! Maurice!” I shouted, springing forward.
But Walla was before me. With a wild cry she flung herself upon his breast.
Now indeed were we face to face with a mighty mystery; now indeed was the promise of the man Mirrikh fulfilled.
If his words were truth, if my own strange experiences were facts and not fancies, then Maurice had returned from Mars.
