ran away and away until its vista grew indistinct in the
distance. It was of heroic proportions, and the floor of a curious red
stone, cut in square tiles, that seemed to smolder as if with the
reflection of flames. The walls were of a shiny green material.

"Jade, or I'm a Shemite!" swore Conan.

"Not in such quantity!" protested Valeria.

"I've looted enough from the Khitan caravans to know what I'm talking
about," he asserted. "That's jade!"

The vaulted ceiling was of lapis lazuli, adorned with clusters of great
green stones that gleamed with a poisonous radiance.

"Green fire-stones," growled Conan. "That's what the people of Punt call
them. They're supposed to be the petrified eyes of those prehistoric
snakes the ancients called Golden Serpents. They glow like a cat's eyes
in the dark. At night this hall would be lighted by them, but it would
be a hellishly weird illumination. Let's look around. We might find a
cache of jewels."

"Shut the door," advised Valeria. "I'd hate to have to outrun a dragon
down this hall."

Conan grinned, and replied: "I don't believe the dragons ever leave the
forest."

But he complied, and pointed out the broken bolt on the inner side.

"I thought I heard something snap when I shoved against it. That bolt's
freshly broken. Rust has eaten nearly through it. If the people ran
away, why should it have been bolted on the inside?"

"They undoubtedly left by another door," suggested Valeria.

She wondered how many centuries had passed since the light of outer day
had filtered into that great hall through the open door. Sunlight was
finding its way somehow into the hall, and they quickly saw the source.
High up in the vaulted ceiling skylights were set in slot-like
openings--translucent sheets of some crystalline substance. In the
splotches of shadow between them, the green jewels winked like the eyes
of angry cats. Beneath their feet the dully lurid floor smoldered with
changing hues and colors of flame. It was like treading the floors of
hell with evil stars blinking overhead.

Three balustraded galleries ran along on each side of the hall, one
above the other.

"A four-storied house," grunted Conan, "and this hall extends to the
roof. It's long as a street. I seem to see a door at the other end."

Valeria shrugged her white shoulders.

"Your eyes are better than mine, then, though I'm accounted sharp-eyed
among the sea-rovers."

* * * * *