the Belgian discovered several doors leading from the enclosure
upon the level of the floor. Above, and circling the courtyard, was
a series of open balconies. Monkeys scampered about the deserted
ruins, and gaily plumaged birds flitted in and out among the
columns and the galleries far above; but no sign of human presence
was discernible. Werper felt relieved. He sighed, as though a
great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He took a step
toward one of the exits, and then he halted, wide-eyed in astonishment
and terror, for almost at the same instant a dozen doors opened in
the courtyard wall and a horde of frightful men rushed in upon him.

They were the priests of the Flaming God of Opar--the same, shaggy,
knotted, hideous little men who had dragged Jane Clayton to the
sacrificial altar at this very spot years before. Their long arms,
their short and crooked legs, their close-set, evil eyes, and their
low, receding foreheads gave them a bestial appearance that sent a
qualm of paralyzing fright through the shaken nerves of the Belgian.

With a scream he turned to flee back into the lesser terrors of
the gloomy corridors and apartments from which he had just emerged,
but the frightful men anticipated his intentions. They blocked
the way; they seized him, and though he fell, groveling upon his
knees before them, begging for his life, they bound him and hurled
him to the floor of the inner temple.

The rest was but a repetition of what Tarzan and Jane Clayton had
passed through. The priestesses came, and with them La, the High
Priestess. Werper was raised and laid across the altar. Cold
sweat exuded from his every pore as La raised the cruel, sacrificial
knife above him. The death chant fell upon his tortured ears. His