omplete. Flinging the
three men down, breathless and numbed from his grasp, he swiftly
clapped leg-irons on them one after the other, then stood up, holding
the long chains together in one huge fist until the women cried out that
the chambers were ready.

The bruised and subdued yachtsmen were placed in their separate cells,
fettered to great iron rings, and left to cogitate over their probable
fate. They were not even permitted the solace of intercourse; but as
each grew more accustomed to the gloom inside, he discerned that it was
no part of the plan to permit him to hunger or thirst, for a subtle
gleam of ruby light shot into each small room from an unseen source,
intensifying gradually and touched with its infernal radiance a small
tabouret on which stood a silver flagon and a dish of the same metal
containing meat.

Milo went to the great chamber in the Cave of Terrible Things when the
doors had closed on his prisoners, and presented himself to Dolores. He
found Pascherette prostrate on the floor before the queen, whimpering
and sobbing with terror. Over her Dolores stood like Wrath in person,
her beautiful face distorted with passion, fire blazing in her eyes, her
breast heaving tumultuously. In her hand she held a cat-o'-nine-tails--a
dainty, vicious, splendid instrument of terror--formed of plaited human
hair of as many shades as thongs, studded with nuggets of gold instead
of lead--and none the less terrible for that--set in a cunningly carved
handle of ivory. And as Milo entered, she held the whip aloft in a
quivering hand, and cried to Pascherette:

"Speak, or I flay thee, traitor! What wert telling the villain, Sancho?"

Pascherette whined and cringed; she could not, or would not speak. The
whip quivered, was about to fall on those dainty bare shoulders, when
Milo, uttering a choking cry, flung himself forward and took the blow on
his face. Dolores started back, a thing of fury, as Milo cast himself at
her feet, his head on the ground, and said with submission:

"Spare the child, Sultana. Let my back bear her penance. She is faithful
to thee."

Dolores halted an instant between redoubled rage and mercy; then she
flung down the whip with a hard laugh, seated herself in the great
chair, and bade Milo and the girl rise and come to her.

"Milo, thou'rt a fool!" she said. "Were thy brain as great as thy great
heart the world might well be thine. I tell thee, child or no child,
that chit is woman enough to