That tower is empty, and this is the key. There
may be guards, but I shall know how to pass among them. You must
come with me there to-night, the three. Even then it may be too
late, I do not know. The gods will permit the possible. But this I
know: the Royal Guard are of the lahnas, on whom the tax to make
good the Hereditary Treasure will fall most heavily. They are filled
with rage against your people--you and the king who is of your
people. I do not know what they will do, but you are not safe for
one moment in the palace. I come to warn you."
Amory's pipe went out. He sat pulling at it abstractedly, trying to
fit together what St. George had told him of the Hereditary Treasure
situation. And more than at any other time since his arrival on the
island his heart leaped up at the prospect of promised adventure.
What if St. George's romantic apostasy were not, after all, to spoil
the flavour of the kind of adventure for which he, Amory, had been
hoping? He leaned eagerly forward.
"What would you suggest?" he said.
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