As Mary listened to him the time sped swiftly by. Her head continued to be a little muzzy but the sensation had no resemblance to the feeling she normally had on occasions when she knew that she ought to refuse another drink. She felt wonderfully alert, her nerves were steady, and the fears about what might happen to her that had agitated her mind on her first entering this hidden mansion had entirely vanished.

In the last few minutes Ratnadatta had twice taken a quick look down into the temple and when, after a third reconnaissance, he again pulled the curtain right back, she sat forward eagerly to see what was going on.

The congregation was still spread about upon the divans and some were talking in hushed voices, but there was an air of expectancy about them and many kept glancing in the direction of the altar. The High Priest, Abaddon, was now seated to one side of it on a low chair. He had taken off his fool's cap and Mary saw that he had a big dome-shaped head that was completely bald. Another low chair on the opposite side of the altar had been taken by a tall fair-haired woman with fine classical features who, Ratnadatta told Mary, was the High Priestess of the Lodge.

The cracked trumpet blared out its single note. Instantly those who had been whispering together fell silent. One minute passed, two, three, four, five, without anything happening. Those minutes seemed to drag interminably while an utter silence was maintained and the strain of expectancy mounted. Two more full minutes passed, then the trumpet blared out six long blasts. At the first the whole congregation rose, Abaddon and the High Priestess with them, and stood with bowed heads.

The blood-red curtains behind the altar moved slightly but did not appear to part. Afterwards Mary wondered if her eyes had closed for a few seconds, though she felt sure they had not. Yet at one minute there was nothing to be seen between the curtains and the back of the throne, and the next a man was standing there.