y.

He returned to the bed. Vilma looked up at him with such relief and
thankfulness on her face that Cliff, with a little choked cry, flung
himself to his knees beside the bed and kissed her hungrily. For
moments their lips clung; then Cliff straightened shakily, trying to
laugh.

"We've got to get out of here, sweetheart," he said. "I'm not afraid
of Corio, but he knows things about this place that we don't know.
After you're safe on the yacht, I'll come back and get him."

He looked around for something with which to cut her bonds. On the
wall above the bed were crossed a pair of murderous-looking cutlasses.
Seizing one of these, Cliff wrenched it from its fastenings and drew
it through the cords.... She stood beside him, free.

"Your clothing----" Cliff began, his eyes on her almost-nude body.

She blushed and pointed mutely to a heap of rags on the floor. Her
eyes flamed wrathfully. "He--he ripped them from me!"

The muscles of Cliff's jaws knotted, and he scowled as he surveyed the
room for a drape or hanging to cover her. For the first time he really
saw the place. All the lavish splendor of royalty had been 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