llow, leading his
victims to the blood-feast. He drew back deeper into the shadows.

His groping hands touched something in the dark--round and hard--like
a keg. Curiously he investigated. It _was_ a keg, and there were
others. A sandy powder trailed to the floor from a crack in one of
them. Thoughtfully Cliff let it run through his fingers. Gunpowder! Of
course--he had heard Corio mention pirates and their treasure, and
this had been their cache of explosive. An idea was forming....

He looked up to see a shadow pass the mouth of the tunnel; he crept
forward and peered out. He saw the black-hooded figure of Leon Corio
striding along, saw him enter the room where the passengers of the
_Ariel_ lay. In a breath Cliff was down the corridor to Corio's room.
A tarnished silver candelabrum shed faint light through the chamber,
and by its flickering glow he searched for Vilma, thoroughly,
painstakingly--futilely.

He stood in the center of the room in indecision, his forehead creased
with anxiety. If only he could find her, he'd know how to plan! He ran
his hand through his hair helplessly, then heard very faintly the
luring note of Corio's horn. She must answer that summons, unless
Corio had her tied somewhere. His best chance of finding her lay in
the hall above.

On the wall still hung the mate of the cutlas he had used to free
Vilma; he wrenched it down and ran out into the corridor. The last of
the naked marchers was disappearing up the stairway. Now the
horn-note died, and he could feel more than hear the rumbling bass of
the dirge from the depths below him.

He ran the rest of the distance along the passageway and mounted the
steps two at a stride. He looked into the torture hall. As on the
previous night, Corio stood far back, close to the wall in which Cliff
crouched. The arms of the Master were raised high; raised, Cliff knew
though he could not hear it, in a blasphemous incantation. And then he
saw something that sent a crimson lance of fury crashing through his
brain.

Vilma, stripped like the rest, stood with the other victims at the
foot of the long steps! Her body gleamed pinkly, in contrast to the
pallid drabness of the half-dead automatons, and she held her head
proudly erect. But from where he stood Cliff could see the side of her
face, and it bore a look of terror.

He could see Corio's face, too, and he was looking at the girl,
baffled fury glaring from his eyes--as though she were there against
h