power sufficient to demand a closer scrutiny, and that, Prince, would indeed prove fatal."
I shrugged my shoulders. It seemed that in any event the outcome of our plight must end in death. I was refreshed from my sleep, but still weak from loss of blood. My wounds were painful. No medicinal aid seemed possible. How I longed for the almost miraculous healing power of the strange salves and lotions of the green Martian women. In an hour they would have had me as new.
I was discouraged. Never had a feeling of such utter hopelessness come over me in the face of danger. Then the long, flowing, yellow locks of the Holy Thern, caught by some vagrant draught, blew about my face.
Might they not still open the way to freedom? If we acted in time, might we not even yet escape before the general alarm was sounded? We could at least try.
"What will the fellow do first, Thuvia?" I asked. "How long will it be before they may return for us?"
"He will go directly to the Father of Therns, old Matai Shang. He may have to wait for an audience, but since he is very high among the lesser therns, in fact a thorian among them, it will not be long that Matai Shang will keep him waiting.
"Then, if the Father of Therns puts credence in his story, another hour will see the galleries and
