George
told the people of Yaque what had happened in that night in the room
of the tombs with that mad old Malakh whom they all remembered. It
came to him as he spoke that it was quite like telling to a field of
flowers the real truth about the wind of which they might be
supposed to know far more than he; and yet, if any one were to tell
the truth about the wind who would know how to listen? He was not
amazed that, when he had done, the people of Yaque sat in a profound
silence which might have been the silence of innocent amazement or
of utter incredulity.
But there was no mistaking the face of Prince Tabnit. Its cool
tolerant amusement suddenly sent the blood pricking to St. George's
heart and filled him with a kind of madness. What he did was the
last thing that he had intended. He turned upon the prince, and his
voice went cutting to the farthest corner of the hall:
"Men and women of Yaque," he cried, "I accuse your prince of the
knowledge that can take from and add to the years of man at will.
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