he materialized in the laboratory with the
Belt?"

Powell told her of the amber egg and the skeleton.

"The same sort of crystalline amber egg that accompanied the work of
the mysterious Tinkling Death, wasn't it?" Joan mused. "One of the
king's lieutenants must have stolen the Belt, and reaped prompt
retribution when he tried to flee. I wonder what that weird Tinkling
Death is?"

"Possibly some strange weapon of the rat-men," Powell hazarded.

"No, they are as afraid of it as we are. While I was being brought
here to this cave the Tinkling Death was heard several times in the
distance, and the rat-men were obviously terrified at the sound."

* * * * *

The prisoners' conversation was abruptly interrupted by a rhythmic,
snarling chant from the vast horde of rat-men in the cavern above.
The chant rose and fell in a rude cadence that was suggestively
ritual in nature.

"They've been doing that at intervals ever since I was first brought
here," Joan commented. "It sounds almost like the beginning of some
primitive religious ceremony, doesn't it?"

Powell nodded, without telling Joan the depressing thought in his
mind. The rat-men were so low in the evolutionary scale as to be
little more than beasts, and a prominent feature of nearly all
primitive religious rites is the sacrifice of living beings. Powell
could not help but wonder whether the chanting might not mark the
beginning of rites which would end with the sacrifice of himself and
Joan to some monstrous deity of theirs.

The snarling chant continued with monotonous regularity for hours,
while the prisoners huddled helplessly together there on the floor
of the pit, awaiting the next move of the rat-men. Any thought of
escape was out of the question. The sheer walls of the pit were
always guarded by alert sentries who had only to call to bring the
entire horde to their help.

Without Powell's wrist-watch, the captives had no way of accurately
following the lapse of time, but they both realized that the
twelve-hour time limit upon Joan's rescue from Arret must be coming
perilously near its end. They waited in momentary fear lest a sudden
turmoil in the cavern above them should indicate that Benjamin
Marlowe had broadcast the recall wave, whisking the two Belts back
to Earth, together with the old rat-king who presumably still wore
them.

* * * * *

The chanting above rose slowly to a snarling