agree with O-Tar.  Such questions he carries to the jeds in The Hall of Chiefs.  There he shuts himself up alone with the great chiefs who have attained wisdom through death.  It is an excellent plan and there is never any friction or misunderstandings.  O-Tar has said that it is the finest deliberative body upon Barsoom—­much more intelligent than that composed of the living jeds.  But come, we must get to work; come into the next chamber and I will begin your instruction.”

He led the way into the chamber in which lay the several corpses upon their marble slabs, and going to a cabinet he donned a pair of huge spectacles and commenced to select various tools from little compartments.  This done he turned again toward his two pupils.

“Now let me have a look at you,” he said.  “My eyes are not what they once were, and I need these powerful lenses for my work, or to see distinctly the features of those around me.”

He turned his eyes upon the two before him.  Turan held his breath for he knew that now the man must discover that they wore not the harness or insignia of Manator.  He had wondered before why the old fellow had not noticed it, for he had not known that he was half blind.  The other examined their faces, his eyes lingering long upon the beauty of Tara of Helium, and then they drifted to the harness of the two.  Turan thought that he noted an appreciable start of surprise on the part of the taxidermist, but if the old man noticed anything his next words did not reveal it.

“Come with I-Gos,” he said to Turan, “I have materials in the next room that I would have you fetch hither.  Remain here, woman, we shall be gone but a moment.”

He led the way to one of the numerous doors opening into the chamber and entered ahead of Turan.  Just inside the door he stopped, and pointing to a bundle of silks and furs upon the opposite side of the room directed Turan to fetch them.  The latter had crossed the room and was stooping to raise the bundle when he heard the click of a lock behind him.  Wheeling instantly he saw that he was alone in the room and that the single door was closed.  Running rapidly to it he strove to open it, only to find that he was a prisoner.

I-Gos, stepping out and locking the door behind him, turned toward Tara.

“Your leather betrayed you,” he said, laughing his cackling laugh.  “You sought to deceive old I-Gos, but you found that though his eyes are weak his brain is not.  But it shall not go ill with you.  You are beautiful and I-Gos loves beautiful women.  I might not have you elsewhere in Manator, but here there is none to deny old I-Gos.  Few come to the pits of the dead—­only those who bang the dead and they hasten away as fast as they can.  No one will know that I-Gos has a beautiful woman locked with his dead.  I shall ask you no questions and then I will not have to give you up, for I will not know to whom you belong, eh?  And when you die I shall mount you beautifully and place you in the chamber with my other women.  Will not that be fine, eh?” He had approached until he stood close beside the horrified girl.  “Come!” he cried, seizing her by the wrist.  “Come to I-Gos!”