about the four tall bed-posts. Only the torn remnants ofher under-garments covered the rounded contours of her body, and Coriocrouched over her, caressing the pink flesh. Vilma writhed beneath histouch.
* * * * *
Cliff growled deep in his throat as he sprang. Corio spun around andleaped aside, but he was too slow to escape Cliff's powerful lunge.One hand closed on his thin neck, and the other, a rock-like fist,made a bloody ruin of his mouth. Howling with pain, Corio tried tosink his teeth in Cliff's arm.
Cliff flung him aside, following with the easy glide of a boxer. Coriocrawled to his feet, cringing, dodging before the nemesis that stalkedhim. Again Cliff leaped, and Corio, yellow with fear, darted aroundthe bed and ran wildly into the hallway. At the door Cliff checkedhimself, reason holding him. Corio could elude him with ease in thislabyrinth of passages; and his first concern was Vilma's safety.
He returned to the bed. Vilma looked up at him with such relief andthankfulness on her face that Cliff, with a little choked cry, flunghimself to his knees beside the bed and kissed her hungrily. Formoments their lips clung; then Cliff straightened shakily, trying tolaugh.
"We've got to get out of here, sweetheart," he said. "I'm not afraidof 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 thewall above the bed were crossed a pair of murderous-looking cutlasses.Seizing one of these, Cliff wrenched it from its fastenings and drewit 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. Hereyes flamed wrathfully. "He--he ripped them from me!"
The muscles of Cliff's jaws knotted, and he scowled as he surveyed theroom for a drape or hanging to cover her. For the first time he reallysaw the place. All the lavish splendor of royalty had been expendedon this chamber. It might have been the bedroom of a king, except thatthe ancient furnishings belonged to no particular period; were, infact, the loot of raids extended over centuries. Yet despite itssplendor, everything was repulsive, cloaked with the same air ofunearthly 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 thisplace makes my flesh crawl. I'd rather stay as I am than touch any ofit!"
Cliff nodded slowly. "Let's go then."
They hurried through the corridors toward the stairway, with Cliffholding the cutlas in readiness. As they passed the room in which laythe _Ariel's_ passengers, he tried to divert Vilma's attention, butshe 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 thelead. He moved with utmost caution.
"It doesn't seem right," he said uneasily. "We should hear fromCorio."
At that moment they did hear from him--literally. From somewhere inthe maze of tunnels came the sound of his accursed horn--the note ofsleep! It swirled insidiously about their heads, numbing their senses.Cliff felt his stride falter, saw Vilma stumble, and he hurled himselfforward furiously, gripping her arm.
"Hurry!" he shouted, striving to pierce the fog of sleep. "We've _got_to get out! Damn him!"
Vilma rallied for an instant, and they reached the top of the stairs.On--across that wide, wide room, each step a struggle.... On while thedroning sound floated languidly through every nerve cell.... On--tilltheir muscles could no longer move, and they sagged to the hard stone,asleep.
* * * * *
Moments later Cliff opened his eyes to meet the hellish glare of LeonCorio. Corio smiled thinly.
"So--you awaken. Good! I would have you know the fate I have plannedfor you. You see this?" He held the cutlas high above Darrell's throatlike the blade of a guillotine. "With this I could end your life quitepainlessly and quickly. It really would prove entertaining for MissBradley, I'm sure." He chuckled faintly behind bruised and swollenlips.
Cliff squirmed, striving to rise, then subsided instantly. He wasbound hand and foot.
"I _could_ kill you," Corio repeated musingly, "but that would lackfinesse." His teeth bared in a feline smile. "And it would be such awaste--of blood! Instead, I'll take you out to the galley and let youlie there till her crew awakens tonight. They have tasted blood, andafter tonight will taste none again for another month. I imaginethey'll--drain you dry!" The last phrase was a vicious snarl.
Cliff heard Vilma utter a suppressed sob, and he turned his head. Shelay close by, bound like him with strips of leather. Furiously Cliffstrained at his fetters, but they held.
"And while you wait for those gentle Persians to awaken," Coriocontinued in tones caressingly soft, "you can think of your sweetheartin my arms! It may teach you not to strike your betters--though youcan never profit by your lesson."
Stooping, he raised Cliff's powerful form and managed to fling himover one shoulder. Then he moved from the great hall, down the stonesteps, and across the dead plain with its sighing skeleton trees. Hewas panting jerkily by the time he came to the fissure leading to thecove, but he reached it, despite Cliff's two hundred pounds. Withoutpausing, he went on into the cavern, along the rock ledge, to step atlast upon the deck of the black galley.
"Pleasant thoughts," he said gently as he dropped Cliff to the spongyboards. "You have only to wait till dark!"
Cliff listened to his rapid footfalls till they died in distance; thenthere was no sound save his own breathing.
Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the heavy gloom, and he sawthat Corio had dropped him just at the edge of the rowers' pit. Therewere white things down there--bones, pale as marble, scattered aboutaimlessly. Could--could those bones join to make the rowers who wouldarise with the night? It seemed absurd--_was_ absurd--yet he knew itwas so! He had seen too much to doubt it.
He rolled over on his back and stared upward into the shadows. He mustlie here helpless while Corio returned to Vilma--did with her as hepleased! Perhaps he might even transform her into a blood-taintedmonster like himself! He saw her again in that room of ancientsplendor, spread-eagled to the bed; and the muscles corded in hisarms, and his lips strained white in a futile effort to break free.
Interminably he lay there waiting. The galley was damp with thechilling dampness of a sepulcher, and the dampness penetrated deeperand deeper. Clamping his jaws together to prevent their quivering, hestruggled against a rising tide of madness which gnawed at his reason.His mind began to crunch and jangle like a machine out of gear,threatening to destroy itself.
On and on in plodding indifference the stolid moments passed, till atlast Cliff realized that it was growing darker. He rolled over on hisside and stared into the galley pit, eyes fixed on the inert masses ofwhite. Soon they would move! Soon the undead would rise! His thoughts,touched by the whips of dread, sped about like slaves seeking escapefrom a torture pit. And abruptly out of the welter of chaotic ideascame one straw of sanity; he seized it, his heart hammering with hope.
Those Persian sailors were armed! Their swords and knives were real,for they cut flesh! Somewhere among their bones must lie sharp-edgedblades!
He struggled to the edge of the pit, let his feet drop over. As theytouched, he balanced precariously for an instant, then fell to hisknees. He peered feverishly about among white bones, molderinggarments, and rusted armor--and saw a faint glimmer of light onpointed steel. He sank forward on his face in the direction of thegleam, turned over, squirmed and writhed till he felt the cold bladeagainst his hands. He caught it between his fingers and began sawingback and forth.
It was heart-breaking work. Age had dulled the weapon, and longslivers of rust flaked off, but the leather which bound him was alsoancient. Though progress was slow, and the effort laborious, Cliffknew his bon
ds were weakening.
But it was growing darker. Even now he could see only a suggestion ofgray among the shadows. If those undead things materialized while helay among them!... Sweat stood out on his forehead and he redoubledhis efforts, straining at the leather as he sawed.
With a snap the cords parted and his hands were free. A single slashsevered the thongs about his ankles, and he stood up, leaped to thedeck. Not an instant too soon! There was movement in the pit--ahideous crawling of bones assembling themselves into skeletal form....
Cliff waited to see no more. There were limits to what one could seeand remain sane. With a bound he crossed the rotting deck, and sprangashore. Despite the dark, he almost ran from the madness of that cave,ran till he passed through the wall of rock, till he saw the rim ofthe moon gleaming behind the
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