“We have captured three chiefs,” he reported to The Warlord, “who beg that they be permitted to enter the throne room and report to their fellows some matter which they say will decide the fate of Manator.”

“Fetch them,” ordered The Warlord.

They came, heavily guarded, to the foot of the steps leading to the throne and there they stopped and the leader turned toward the others of Manator and raising high his right hand displayed a jeweled dagger.  “We found it,” he said, “even where I-Gos said that we would find it,” and he looked menacingly upon O-Tar.

“A-Kor, jeddak of Manator!” cried a voice, and the cry was taken up by a hundred hoarse-throated warriors.

“There can be but one jeddak in Manator,” said the chief who held the dagger; his eyes still fixed upon the hapless O-Tar he crossed to where the latter stood and holding the dagger upon an outstretched palm proffered it to the discredited ruler.  “There can be but one jeddak in Manator,” he repeated meaningly.

O-Tar took the proffered blade and drawing himself to his full height plunged it to the guard into his breast, in that single act redeeming himself in the esteem of his people and winning an eternal place in The Hall of Chiefs.

As he fell all was silence in the great room, to be broken presently by the voice of U-Thor.  “O-Tar is dead!” he cried.  “Let A-Kor rule until the chiefs of all Manator may be summoned to choose a new jeddak.  What is your answer?”

“Let A-Kor rule!  A-Kor, Jeddak of Manator!” The cries filled the room and there was no dissenting voice.

A-Kor raised his sword for silence.  “It is the will of A-Kor,” he said, “and that of the Great Jed of Manatos, and the commander of the fleet from Gathol, and of the illustrious John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom, that peace lie upon the city of Manator and so I decree that the men of Manator go forth and welcome the fighting men of these our allies as guests and friends and show them the wonders of our ancient city and the hospitality of Manator.  I have spoken.”  And U-Thor and John Carter dismissed their warriors and bade them accept the hospitality of Manator.  As the room emptied Djor Kantos reached the side of Tara of Helium.  The girl’s happiness at rescue had been blighted by sight of this man whom her virtuous heart told her she had wronged.  She dreaded the ordeal that lay before her and the dishonor that she must admit before she could hope to be freed from the understanding that had for long existed between them.  And now Djor Kantos approached and kneeling raised her fingers to his lips.

“Beautiful daughter of Helium,” he said, “how may I tell you the thing that I must tell you—­of the dishonor that I have all unwittingly done you?  I can but throw myself upon your generosity for forgiveness; but if you demand it I can receive the dagger as honorably as did O-Tar.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tara of Helium.  “What are you talking about—­why speak thus in riddles to one whose heart is already breaking?”