it shrilled. "Tell me the secret or die where you stand!"

"And if I die now, the secret goes with me," Bradley reminded him.
"Never again will you get the opportunity to question another of
my kind who knows the secret." Anything to gain time, to get the
rest of the Wieroos from the room, that he might plan some scheme
for escape and put it into effect.

The creature turned upon the leader of the party that had
brought Bradley.

"Is the thing with weapons?" it asked.

"No," was the response.

"Then go; but tell the guard to remain close by," commanded the
high one.

The Wieroos salaamed and withdrew, closing the door behind them.
He Who Speaks for Luata grasped a sword nervously in his right hand.
At his left side lay the second weapon. It was evident that he
lived in constant dread of being assassinated. The fact that he
permitted none with weapons within his presence and that he
always kept two swords at his side pointed to this.

Bradley was racking his brain to find some suggestion of a plan
whereby he might turn the situation to his own account. His eyes
wandered past the weird figure before him; they played about the
walls of the apartment as though hoping to draw inspiration from
the dead skulls and the hides and the wings, and then they came