"Wait!" cried Larry, thinking of Professor Stevens.

And releasing Diane, who had revived, he rushed forward, seized the
prostrate savant from amid the unresisting Cabiri, and bore him to
safety.

"Daddy!" sobbed Diane, swaying to meet them.

"Back!" shouted one of the sailors, shoving them through the door.

The last glimpse Larry had of that fateful room was the horde of
priests and guards huddled before their altar, voices lifted in
supplication to that hideous dragon god.

Then issued a series of blinding flashes followed by deafening
explosions, mingled with shrieks of anguish.

Sickened, he stood there, as the reverberations died away.

* * * * *

Presently, when it was plain no further menace would come from that
blasted temple, their rescuers led the trio back down those winding
galleries, and through that long, straight tunnel to the smaller
pyramid.

Professor Stevens had recovered consciousness by now and was able to
walk, with Larry's aid, though a matted clot of blood above his left
ear showed the force of the blow he had received.

The way, after reaching the smaller pyramid, led up those other
galleries they had mounted the night before.

This time, undoubtedly, they were to be taken before that mysterious
usurping emperor. And what would be the result of that audience? Would
it but plunge them from the frying pan into the fire, wondered Larry,
or would it mean their salvation?

Anyway, he concluded, no fate could be worse than the hideous one they
had just escaped. But if only Diane could be spared further anguish!

He glanced at her fondly, as they walked along, and she returned him a
warm smile.

Now the way led into a short, level passage ending in a door guarded
by two sailors with rifles. They presented arms, as their comrades
came up, and flung open the door.

As he stepped inside, Larry blinked in amazement, for he was greeted
by electric lights in ornate clusters, richly carpeted floors, walls
hung with modern paintings--and there at the far end, beside a massive
desk, stood an imposing personage in foreign naval uniform of high
rank, strangely familiar, strangely reminiscent of war days.

Even before the man spoke, in his guttural English, the suspicion
those sailors had aroused crystallized itself.

A German! A U-boat commander!

* * * * *

"Greetings, gentlemen--and the little lady," boomed their host, with