expended on this chamber. It might have been the bedroom of a king, except that the ancient furnishings belonged to no particular period; were, in fact, the loot of raids extended over centuries. Yet despite its splendor, everything was repulsive, cloaked with the same air of unearthly gloom that hovered about the galley.
He moved toward an intricately woven tapestry; but Vilma checked him, shuddering with revulsion.
"No, Cliff—it's too much like grave clothes. Everything about this place makes my flesh crawl. I'd rather stay as I am than touch any of it!"
Cliff nodded slowly. "Let's go then."
They hurried through the corridors toward the stairway, with Cliff holding the cutlas in readiness. As they passed the room in which lay the Ariel's passengers, he tried to divert Vilma's attention, but she looked in as though hypnotized.
"I saw them before," she whispered. "It's awful."
As they started up the stairway to the great hall, Cliff took the lead. He moved with utmost caution.
"It doesn't seem right," he said uneasily. "We should hear from Corio."
At that moment they did hear from him—literally. From somewhere in the maze of tunnels came the sound of his accursed horn—the note of sleep! It swirled insidiously about their heads, numbing their senses. Cliff felt his stride falter, saw Vilma stumble, and he hurled himself forward furiously, gripping her arm.
"Hurry!" he shouted, striving to pierce the fog of sleep, "We've got to get out! Damn him!"
Vilma rallied for an instant, and they reached the top of the stairs. On—across that wide, wide room, each step a struggle. ... On while the droning sound floated languidly through every nerve cell. ... On—till their muscles could no longer move, and they sagged to the hard stone, asleep.
Moments later Cliff opened his eyes to meet the hellish glare of Leon Corio. Corio smiled thinly.
"So—you awaken. Good! I would have you know the fate I have planned for you. You see this?" He held the cutlas high above Darren's throat like the blade of a guillotine. "With this I could end your life quite painlessly and quickly. It really would prove entertaining for Miss Bradley, I'm sure." He chuckled faintly behind bruised and swollen lips.
Cliff squirmed, striving to rise, then subsided instantly. He was bound hand and foot.
"I could kill you," Corio repeated musingly, "but that would lack finesse." His teeth bared in a feline smile. "And it would be such a waste—of blood! Instead, I'll take you out to the galley and let you lie there till her crew awakens tonight. They have tasted blood, and after tonight will taste none again for another month. I imagine they'll—drain you dry!" The last phrase was a vicious snarl.
Cliff heard Vilma utter a suppressed sob, and he turned his head. She lay close by, bound like him with strips of leather. Furiously Cliff strained at his fetters, but they held.
"And while you wait for those gentle Persians to awaken," Corio continued in tones caressingly soft, "you can think of your sweetheart in my arms! It may teach you not to strike your betters—though you can never profit by your lesson."
Stooping, he raised Cliff's powerful form and managed to fling him over one shoulder. Then he moved from the great
