arble walls and sanded floor. All around it were cages in which
were confined great beasts; and alcoves in which she and her guests,
behind iron bars, would sit, when sated with love and feasting, to
watch the animals fight to the death.

Then she ran quickly down the flight of marble steps, and clapped her
hands.

From some dark corner a shape came running, ambling like some gigantic
ape, maintaining an upright position by means of an occasional thrust
at the ground with the knuckles of the left hand. The small eyes in
his large head blinked craftily at the beautiful woman--its own mate
being well-nigh as simian as itself--; it shuffled on its huge feet and
pulled at its gaudy raiment with abnormally long fingers. The
monstrosity had been nicknamed "Bes," after the monstrous dwarf god of
Ancient Egypt, by someone--the nationality of whom is of no
account--who had balanced the ardour of his studies with hours of
leisure in the bazaar. The beasts, aroused doubtlessly by the scent of
the thing which brought them meat, roared and flung themselves against
the bars of the cage.

They were half-starved.

Unlike most of her class, Zulannah was mean. She was a niggard in
things which did not concern herself.

So that, to feed his numerous progeny of repulsive simian shape, the
keeper of the cages starved the beasts. Not that Zulannah cared one
iota for their hunger or suffering; it made them fight the merrier for
a bit of meat.

And she sat in her ebony chair close to the bars, with a brazier beside
her, and laughed delightedly as the liberated lion flung itself at the
cages in which roared its wretched brethren.

And then the great beast stopped suddenly in the middle of the den,
growling softly, snuffing the air. Then, with heartrending roar hurled
itself straight at the bars behind which she sat.

Was she afraid? Not one bit. She was behind the bars. She laughed
aloud and clapped her hands, standing just out of reach of the paw
which tried to reach her.

Back across the sand rushed the animal, and then with all its might
crashed against the barrier.

A look of horror swept the woman's face--the middle bar had bent. She
sensed her danger, but kept her nerve. Without hesitating, she turned
to the brazier at her side, carefully selected a handle well wrapped
about, and, turning again swiftly, thrust the red-hot point down the
lion's maw.

'Twere best not to describe the rest of the awful scene in whic