EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS
any discomfort. The triumph was over. Von Harben had been returned to the cell that he occupied with Mallius Lepus.
“You are back early,” said Lepus. “How did the triumph of Validus impress you?”
“It was not much of a show, if I may judge by the amount of enthusiasm displayed by the people.”
“The triumphs of Validus are always poor things,” said Lepus. “He would rather put ten talents in his belly or on his back than spend one denarius to amuse the people.”
“And the games,” asked von Harben, “will they be as poor?”
“They do not amount to much,” said the Lepus, “We have few criminals here and as we have to purchase all our slaves, they are too valuable to waste in this way. Many of the contests are between wild beasts, an occasional thief or murderer may be pitted against a gladiator, but for the most part Validus depends upon professional gladiators and political prisoners—enemies or supposed enemies of Caesar. More often they are like you and I—victims of the lying and jealous intrigues of favorites.
There are about twenty such in the dungeons now, and they will furnish the most interesting entertainment of the games.”
“And if we are victorious, we are freed?” asked von Harben.
“We shall not be victorious,” said Mallius Lepus. “Fulvus Fupus has seen to that, you may rest assured.”
“It is terrible,” muttered von Harben.
“You are afraid to die?” asked Mallius Lepus.
“It is not that,” said von Harben. “I am thinking of Favonia.”
“And well you may,” said Mallius Lepus. “My sweet cousin would be happier dead than married to Fulvus Fupus.”
“I feel so helpless,” said von Harben. “Not a friend, not even my faithful body servant, Gabula.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” exclaimed Lepus. “They were here looking for him this morning.”
“Looking for him? Is he not confined in the dungeon?”
“He was, but he was detailed with other prisoners to prepare the arena last night, and during the darkness of early
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