*

As O-Tar pointed to the little doorway all eyes turned in the direction
he indicated and surprise was writ large upon the faces of the warriors
when they recognized the two who had entered the banquet hall. There
was I-Gos, and he dragged behind him one who was gagged and whose hands
were fastened behind with a ribbon of tough silk. It was the slave
girl. I-Gos' cackling laughter rose above the silence of the room.

"Ey, ey!" he shrilled. "What the young warriors of O-Tar cannot do, old
I-Gos does alone."

"Only a Corphal may capture a Corphal," growled one of the chiefs who
had fled from the chambers of O-Mai.

I-Gos laughed. "Terror turned your heart to water," he replied; "and
shame your tongue to libel. This be no Corphal, but only a woman of
Helium; her companion a warrior who can match blades with the best of
you and cut your putrid hearts. Not so in the days of I-Gos' youth. Ah,
then were there men in Manator. Well do I recall that day that I--"

"Peace, doddering fool!" commanded O-Tar. "Where is the man?"

"Where I found the woman--in the death chamber of O-Mai. Let your wise
and brave chieftains go thither and fetch him. I am an old man, and
could bring but one."

"You have done well, I-Gos," O-Tar hastened to assure him, for when he
learned that Gahan might still be in the haunted chambers he wished to
appease the wrath of I-Gos, knowing well the vitriolic tongue and
temper of the ancient one. "You think she is no Corphal, then, I-Gos?"
he asked, wishing to carry the subject from the man who was still at
large.

"No more than you," replied the ancient taxidermist.

O-Tar looked long and searchingly at Tara of Helium. All the beauty
that was hers seemed suddenly to be carried to every fibre of his
consciousness. She was still garbed in the rich harness of a Black
Princess of Jetan, and as O-Tar the Jeddak gazed upon her he realized
that never before had his eyes rested upon a more perfect figure--a
more beautiful face.

"She is no Corphal," he murmured to himself. "She is no Corphal and she
is a princess--a princess of Helium, and, by the golden hair of the
Holy Hekkador, she is beautiful. Take the gag from her mouth and
release her hands," he commanded aloud. "Make room for the Princess
Tara of Helium at the side of O-Tar of Manator. She shall dine as
becomes a princess."

Slaves did as O-Tar bid and Tara of Helium stood with flashing eyes
behind the chair that was offered her. "Sit!" comman