“Moreover,” resumed the prince, “there were those among us who had long believed that new strength would come to my people by the introduction of an inhabitant of one of the continents.  His coming would, however, necessitate his sovereignty among us, in fulfilment of an ancient Phoenician law, providing that the state, and every satrapy therein, shall receive no service, either of blood or of bond, nor enter into the marriage contract with an alien; from which law only the royal house is exempt.  Thus were the two needs of our land to be served by the means to which we had recourse.  For there being no way to settle the difficulty, we vowed to leave the matter to Chance, that great patient arbiter of destinies of which your civilization takes no account, save to reduce it to slavery.  Accordingly each inhabitant of the island took a solemn oath to await, with an open mind free from choice or prejudice, the settlement of the event, certain that the gods would permit the possible.  Five days after this decision our watchers upon the hills sighted a South African transport bound for the Azores to coal.  A hundred miles from our coast she was wrecked, and it was thought that all on board had been lost.  A submarine was ordered to the spot—­”

“Do you mean,” interrupted St. George, “that you were able to see the wreck at that distance?”

“Certainly,” said the prince.  “Pray forgive me,” he added winningly, “if I seem to boast.  It is difficult for me to believe that your appliances are so immature.  We were using steamship navigation and limiting our vision at the time of Pericles, but the futility of these was among our first discoveries.”

Involuntarily St. George turned to Miss Holland.  What would she think, he found himself wondering.  Her eyes were luminous and her breath was coming quickly; he was relieved to find that she had not the infectious vulgarity to doubt the possibility of what seemed impossible.  This was one of the qualities of Mr. Augustus Frothingham, who had assumed an air of polite interest and an accurately cynical smile, and the manner of generously lending his professional attention to any of the vagaries of the client.  Mrs. Hastings stirred uneasily.

“I’m sure,” she said fretfully, “that I must be very stupid, but I simply can not follow you.  Why, you talk about things that don’t exist!  My husband, who was a very practical and advanced man, would have shown you at once that what you say is impossible.”

Here was the attitude of the Commonplace the world over, thought St. George:  to believe in wireless telegraphy simply because it has been found out, and to disbelieve in the Fourth Dimension because it has not been.

“I can not explain these things,” admitted the prince gravely, “and I dare say that you could prove that they do not exist, just as a man from another planet could show us to his own satisfaction that there are no such things as music or colour.”