showed her a flake of soot on it, and he dumbly pointed to others that were falling about them.
“How did you discover it?” he asked, and Thorndyke saw that he was trying to appear calm.
“Mr.—this gentleman's friend has returned from banishment, and——”
“Returned! has the wall been destroyed?”
“No; he accidentally discovered the danger, and came in a flying-machine to warn you.”
“Where is he? bring him to me, quick!”
“But you will not ——”
He waved his hand impatiently. “Go; if Alpha is saved he shall be at liberty—if it is not, what does it matter?”
Thorndyke hastened away after Johnston, who, when he was told of the king's words, readily accompanied his friend to the presence of the ruler. They found him with his daughter still on the balcony.
“How did you discover this?” asked the king, turning to the American.
As quickly as possible, Johnston related his adventures, and particularly the story of the shooting fountain and the fall of salt water. The king did not wait for him to conclude. He ran back into his chamber, touched another button, and the next instant alarm-bells were ringing all over the city.
“A signal to the protectors,” explained the princess to Thorndyke; “by this time they are ringing all over Alpha. Oh, what will become of us?” as she spoke she leaned over the balustrade and looked down into the street. Vast crowds had gathered and were motionless, except at points where the purple-clad “protectors” rushed from public buildings to assemble in squads on the street corner.
XVII
Bernardino turned to look after her father as he was leaving the room.
“He is going to the observatory,” she said to Thorndyke and Johnston. “Let us go also.” And they followed the king into the room with the glass roof and walls covered with mirrors which he had shown the strangers several days before. A white-headed old man stood at the stand, his fingers trembling over the half circle of electric buttons. In a mirror before him he was studying the reflection of a town of perhaps a hundred houses. The streets were filled with excited citizens, and a squad of protectors stood ready for action near a row of flying-machines.
“Ornethelo,” said the king, and at the sound of his voice the old man turned and bowed humbly.
“All right,” went on the king, “I will take your place a moment.”
He went to the stand and touched a button. Instantly the scene changed; fields, forests, streams and hills ran by in a murky blur, and then a larger town flashed on the mirror. Here the same stir and alertness characterized the scene. The gaze of every inhabitant was fixed on the threatening horizon. Rapidly the scenes shifted at the king's will, till a hundred cities, towns and villages had been reviewed.
“Enough! They are all ready—all faithful,” groaned the king, “and, Ornethelo, they may all have to perish to-day, and all for our ambition. Poor mortals!”
Ornethelo's face was half submerged in the beard on his breast, but he looked up suddenly and spoke:
“For their sakes, then, we ought not to delay; there may yet be hope.”
“You are right, Ornethelo.” There was a ring of hope in the voice of the king. “Quick! show me my capitol, that I may see if all the protectors are ready.”
Ornethelo touched another button, and, as if seen from a great height, the fair and wondrous city dawned before the eyes of the spectators. In every street policemen and protectors and flying-machines stood in orderly readiness. The housetops were colored with the variegated costumes of men, women and children. Over all lay the wondrous sunlight, through the green splendor of which the flakes of soot were falling like black snow.
The king touched the old man's arm. “I must see beyond the walls; are the connections made?”
“Ready, sir.”
“Try them; they must not fail me now!”
The old man tremblingly unlocked a cabinet on the table, and another row of electric buttons was displayed. Ornethelo touched one. Immediately there was a sharp clicking sound under the stand, and the view was swept from the mirror. Nothing could be seen but a dark suggestion of towering cliffs and yawning caverns.
“Not the east, Ornethelo,” cried the king impatiently. “Go on! the west! the west!”
The black landscape flashed by like a glimpse of night from a flying train, and then a blur of redly illuminated smoke in rolling billows seemed to swell out from the surface of the mirror into the room.
“There, slow!” cried the king, and then a frightful scene burst upon their sight. They beheld a great belching pit of fire and flames. The sky from the earth to the zenith was a vast expanse of illuminated smoke, and the black landscape round about was cut by rivulets of molten lava rolling on and on like restless streams of quicksilver.
The king leaned against the stand as if faint with despair. “Call Prince Arthur!” he ordered, and almost at that instant the young man appeared.
“Father!”
The king pointed a quivering finger at the mirror, and said huskily:
“Let not the sun go down! Let its light be white as at noon.”
“But, father, it has never been done before; it——”
“Alpha has never faced such danger. All our dream is about to end. Go!”
Without a word the young man hastened away, and it seemed scarcely a moment before the sunlight streaming in at the oval glass roof changed from green to white.
The king pushed Ornethelo impatiently aside; his eyes held a dull gleam of despair, and he seemed to have grown ten years older. He touched a button, and the awful scene at the pit gave place to a bright view of the capitol, which was plainly seen from its crowded centre to its scattering suburbs. The squads of “protectors” stood like armies ready for battle, their rigid faces still toward the awful west.
“They are ready—the signal!” yelled the king, waving his hand, “the signal!” Ornethelo caught his breath suddenly and tottered as he went across the room, and touched a button on the wall. The king's eyes were glued on the mirrored view of the capitol, his trembling hands held out, as if commanding silence. Then a deafening trumpet blast broke on the ear. The masses of citizens pressed near the edges of the roofs and close against the walls along the streets, as the protectors rushed into the flying-machines. Another trumpet-blast, and away they flew, a long black line, every instant growing smaller as it receded in the murky distance. The princess, white and silent, led Thorndyke and Johnston back to the balcony. The line of machines was now a mere thread in the sky, but the ominous cloud in the west had increased, and fine sand and ashes were added to the fall of soot.
“What was that?” gasped the princess. It was a low rumble like distant thunder, and the balcony shook violently.
“An
