bat the terrible hopelessness that was overwhelming her, but her
fingers stole for reassurance to the slim blade that she had managed to
transfer, undetected, from her old harness to the new. And now the
groom was at her side and taking her hand was leading her up the steps
to the throne, before which they halted and stood facing the gathering
below. Came then, from the back of the room a procession headed by the
high dignitary whose office it was to make these two man and wife, and
directly behind him a richly-clad youth bearing a silken pillow on
which lay the golden handcuffs connected by a short length of
chain-of-gold with which the ceremony would be concluded when the
dignitary clasped a handcuff about the wrist of each symbolizing their
indissoluble union in the holy bonds of wedlock.

Would Turan's promised succor come too late? Tara listened to the long,
monotonous intonation of the wedding service. She heard the virtues of
O-Tar extolled and the beauties of the bride. The moment was
approaching and still no sign of Turan. But what could he accomplish
should he succeed in reaching the throne room, other than to die with
her? There could be no hope of rescue.

The dignitary lifted the golden handcuffs from the pillow upon which
they reposed. He blessed them and reached for Tara's wrist. The time
had come! The thing could go no further, for alive or dead, by all the
laws of Barsoom she would be the wife of O-Tar of Manator the instant
the two were locked together. Even should rescue come then or later she
could never dissolve those bonds and Turan would be lost to her as
surely as though death separated them.

Her hand stole toward the hidden blade, but instantly the hand of the
groom shot out and seized her wrist. He had guessed her intention.
Through the slits in the grotesque mask she could see his eyes upon her
and she guessed the sardonic smile that the mask hid. For a tense
moment the two stood thus. The people below them kept breathless
silence for the play before the throne had not passed un-noticed.

Dramatic as was the moment it was suddenly rendered trebly so by the
noisy opening of the doors leading to The Hall of Chiefs. All eyes
turned in the direction of the interruption to see another figure
framed in the massive opening--a half-clad figure buckling the
half-adjusted harness hurriedly in place--the figure of O-Tar, Jeddak
of Manator.

"Stop!" he screamed, springing forward along the aisle tow