urage to me, and urging me to save
myself.

Suddenly beyond her I saw the beautiful face of Phaidor contorted into
an expression of malign hatred. As my eyes met hers she spoke.

"Think not, John Carter, that you may so lightly cast aside the love of
Phaidor, daughter of Matai Shang. Nor ever hope to hold thy Dejah
Thoris in thy arms again. Wait you the long, long year; but know that
when the waiting is over it shall be Phaidor's arms which shall welcome
you--not those of the Princess of Helium. Behold, she dies!"

And as she finished speaking I saw her raise a dagger on high, and then
I saw another figure. It was Thuvia's. As the dagger fell toward the
unprotected breast of my love, Thuvia was almost between them. A
blinding gust of smoke blotted out the tragedy within that fearsome
cell--a shriek rang out, a single shriek, as the dagger fell.

The smoke cleared away, but we stood gazing upon a blank wall. The
last crevice had closed, and for a long year that hideous chamber would
retain its secret from the eyes of men.

They urged me to leave.

"In a moment it will be too late," cried Xodar. "There is, in fact,
but a bare chance that we can come through to the outer garden alive
even now. I have ordered the pumps started, and in five minutes the
pits will be flooded. If we would not drown like rats in a trap we
must hasten above and make a dash for safety through the burning
temple."

"Go," I urged them. "Let me die here beside my Princess--there is no
hope or happiness elsewhere for me. When they carry her dear body from
that terrible place a year hence let them find the body of her lord
awaiting her."

Of what happened after that I have only a confused recollection. It
seems as though I struggled with many men, and then that I was picked
bodily from the ground and borne away. I do not know. I have never
asked, nor has any other who was there that day intruded on my sorrow
or recalled to my mind the occurrences which they know could but at
best reopen the terrible wound within my heart.

Ah! If I could but know one thing, what a burden of suspense would be
lifted from my shoulders! But whether the assassin's dagger reached
one fair bosom or another, only time will divulge.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Gods of Mars, by Edgar Rice Burroughs

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GODS OF MARS ***

***** This file should be named 64.txt or 64.zip *****
This and al