Coryndon leaned back and half closed his eyes; the words seemed potent,
as with a spell, and he called up a vision of the forsaken Palace where
wild things lived and where revels were long forgotten--solitude and
ruin that no one ever crossed to explore or to see--with the eyes of a
man who can rebuild a mighty past. Solitude in the halls and marble
stairways, ruin of time in the fretted screens, and broken cisterns
holding nothing but dry earth. Nothing there now but the lion and the
lizard, not even the ghost of a light footfall, or the tinkle of glass
bangles on a rounded arm.

Coryndon had almost forgotten Hartley when he came back, flushed and
pleased, and full of a host's anxiety about his guest's welfare.

"I hope you haven't been bored?"

"No," said Coryndon, touching the book, "I've been amusing myself in my
own way," and he followed Hartley out of the room.




XI

SHOWS HOW THE "WHISPER FROM THE DAWN OF LIFE" ENABLES CORYNDON TO TAKE
THE DRIFTING THREADS BETWEEN HIS FINGERS


Very probably Hartley believed that he knew "all about" Coryndon; he
knew at least, that the Government of India looked upon him as the best