The first thing Rainsford's eyes discerned was the largest man Rainsford had ever seen-a gigantic creature, solidly made and black bearded to the waist.
In his hand the man held a long-barreled revolver, and he was pointing it straight at Rainsford's heart.
Out of the snarl of beard two small eyes regarded Rainsford.
"Don't be alarmed," said Rainsford, with a smile which he hoped was disarming. "I'm no robber. I fell off a yacht. My name is Sanger Rainsford of New York City."
The menacing look in the eyes did not change. The revolver pointing as rigidly as if the giant were a statue. He gave no sign that he understood Rainsford's words, or that he had even heard them. He was dressed in uniform-a black uniform trimmed with gray astrakhan.
"I'm Sanger Rainsford of New York," Rainsford began again. "I fell off a yacht. I am hungry."
The man's only answer was to raise with his thumb the hammer of his revolver.
Then Rainsford saw the man's free hand go to his forehead in a military salute, and he saw him click his heels together and stand at attention.
Another man was coming down the broad marble steps, an erect, slender man in evening clothes.
He advanced to Rainsford and held out his hand.