“Sept has already gone to Luud.  He will tell him,” replied one.  “Where did you find this rykor with the strange kaldane that cannot detach itself?”

The girl’s captor narrated once more the story of her capture.  He stated facts just as they had occurred, without embellishment, his voice as expressionless as his face, and his story was received in the same manner that it was delivered.  The creatures seemed totally lacking in emotion, or, at least, the capacity to express it.  It was impossible to judge what impression the story made upon them, or even if they heard it.  Their protruding eyes simply stared and occasionally the muscles of their mouths opened and closed.  Familiarity did not lessen the horror the girl felt for them.  The more she saw of them the more repulsive they seemed.  Often her body was shaken by convulsive shudders as she looked at the kaldanes, but when her eyes wandered to the beautiful bodies and she could for a moment expunge the heads from her consciousness the effect was soothing and refreshing, though when the bodies lay, headless, upon the floor they were quite as shocking as the heads mounted on bodies.  But by far the most grewsome and uncanny sight of all was that of the heads crawling about upon their spider legs.  If one of these should approach and touch her Tara of Helium was positive that she should scream, while should one attempt to crawl up her person—­ugh! the very idea induced a feeling of faintness.

Sept returned to the chamber.  “Luud will see you and the captive.  Come!” he said, and turned toward a door opposite that through which Tara of Helium had entered the chamber.  “What is your name?” His question was directed to the girl’s captor.

“I am Ghek, third foreman of the fields of Luud,” he answered.

“And hers?”

“I do not know.”

“It makes no difference.  Come!”

The patrician brows of Tara of Helium went high.  It made no difference, indeed!  She, a princess of Helium; only daughter of The Warlord of Barsoom!

“Wait!” she cried.  “It makes much difference who I am.  If you are conducting me into the presence of your jed you may announce The Princess Tara of Helium, daughter of John Carter, The Warlord of Barsoom.”

“Hold your peace!” commanded Sept.  “Speak when you are spoken to.  Come with me!”

The anger of Tara of Helium all but choked her.  “Come,” admonished Ghek, and took her by the arm, and Tara of Helium came.  She was naught but a prisoner.  Her rank and titles meant nothing to these inhuman monsters.  They led her through a short, S-shaped passageway into a chamber entirely lined with the white, tile-like material with which the interior of the light wall was faced.  Close to the base of the walls were numerous smaller apertures, circular in shape, but larger than those of similar aspect that she had noted elsewhere.  The majority of these apertures were sealed.  Directly opposite the entrance was one framed in gold, and above it a peculiar device was inlaid in the same precious metal.