That was all. It was like a blow in the face. I looked at Tavia and saw her wide eyes upon the official. "You mean that we are to be held as prisoners?" she demanded; "I, a daughter of Tjanath, and this warrior who came here from a friendly nation seeking your aid and protection?" "You will each have a hearing later before the Jed," snapped the official. "I have spoken. Take them away." Several of the warriors seized me rather roughly by the arms. Tavia had turned away from the official and was looking at me. "Good-bye, Hadron of Hastor!" she said. "It is my fault that you are here. May my ancestors forgive me!" "Do not reproach yourself, Tavia," I begged her, "for who might have foreseen such a stupid reception?" We were taken from the apartment by different doorways and there we turned, each for a last look at the other, and in Tavia's eyes there were tears, and in my heart. The pits of Tjanath, to which I was immediately conducted, are gloomy, but they are not enveloped in impenetrable darkness as are the pits beneath most Barsoomian cities. Into the dungeon dim light filtered through the iron grating from the corridors, where ancient radium bulbs glowed faintly. Yet it was light and I gave thanks for that, for I have always believed that I should go mad imprisoned in utter darkness. I was heavily fettered and unnecessarily so, it seemed to me, as they chained me to a massive iron ring set deep in the masonry wall of my dungeon, and then, leaving me, locked also the ponderous iron grating before the doorway. As the footfalls of the warriors diminished to nothingness in the distance I heard the faint sound of something moving nearby me in my dungeon. What could it be? I strained my eyes into the gloomy darkness. Presently, as my eyes became more accustomed to the dim light in my cell, I saw the figure of what appeared to be a man crouching against the wall near me. Again I heard a sound as he moved and this time it was accompanied by the rattle of a chain, and then I saw a face turn toward me, but I could not distinguish the features. "Another guest to share the hospitality of Tjanath," said a voice that came from the blurred figure beside me. It was a clear voice--the voice of a man--and there was a quality to its timbre that I liked. "Do our hosts entertain many such as we?" I asked. "In this cell there was but one," he replied; "now there are two. Are you from Tjanath or elsewhere?" "I am from Hastor, city of the Empire of Tardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium." "You are a long way from home," he said. "Yes," I replied; "and you?" "I am from Jahar," he answered. "My name is Nur An." "And mine is Hadron," I said. "Why are you here?" "I am a prisoner because I am from Jahar," he replied. "What is your crime?" "It is that they think I am from Jahar," I told him. "What made them think that? Do you wear the metal of Jahar?" "No, I wear the metal of Helium, but I chanced to come to Tjanath in a Jaharian flier."