olently.

"Hum!" thought the American. "That's at least one outfit that doesn't
like the way I part my hair. Wonder what devilment the priests are
cooking up?"

* * * * *

He was not long in finding out, for the black robed arch-priest
suddenly left his group of underlings to boldly make his way forward,
while princes, courtiers and warriors drew respectfully aside and bent
their heads.

"Hail! All conquering Emperor!" The stern old man halted squarely
before Altorius' gem encrusted throne, while Alden checked some remark
to look curiously down upon the hawk-featured arch-priest.

Altorius flushed and the lines about his mouth tightened, from which
Nelson guessed that there was more than a little bad blood between the
spiritual and temporal heads of the empire.

"What wouldst thou, oh Heracles?"

"I would know why the all powerful Wanderer, of whom thou makest so
much, did not rescue Princess Altara?"

The Emperor stiffened. "Her rescue, being impossible of
accomplishment, was not nominated in the agreement," he said coldly.
"The Wanderer has in full carried out his share--and so shall we.
Honored and beloved of Atlans, these great warriors shall abide among
us in peace."

Here Nelson thought it wise to dispel any illusions Altorius might
entertain about their staying in Atlans. "No, oh Splendor: remember,
our agreement was that, should I conquer the Jarmuthian champions,
Alden and I were to be allowed to go free."

"Nay, oh Splendor," fiercely broke in the arch-priest, "permit them
not to go. I tell thee the Princess Altara _must_ be restored to
Atlans! Else,"--a distinct note of threat crept into the old man's
voice--"--else evil days shall fall upon this empire, and the line of
Hudson will wither and fade."

Up sprang Altorius in a towering rage. "Sirrah! Dost dare make threats
to thy liege lord?"

* * * * *

Fire flashed from the young Emperor's bright blue eyes, and under
their fierce glare the old man quailed and stepped back with eyes
lowered.

"Altorius keeps his word," the Emperor thundered. "The strangers shall
go, though all the black-robed kites in the realm say me nay. The word
of a Hudsonian prince is as sure as the fire of Pelion. Get thee gone,
rash priest!"

A long moment, the two strangely contracting figures glared at each
other, the young, splendid Emperor and the malevolent, withered old
man.

"The Gods demand thei