"Their law states that the stranger within their gates must perish on the altar of Beelzebub, Jarmuth's blood-hungry demon god." A momentary expression of sadness crept into the Emperor's blue eyes and he beat a square, powerful hand on the arm of his throne. "Aye, blood-hungry! Lack-a-day! But yesterday, six of our fairest maidens crossed the boiling river, never to return." Nelson was about to speak when from outside came the blast of a trumpet. The assembled Atlanteans started, paused, and remained silent, listening intently. Hero Giles looked up, a light kindling in his deep-set eyes. "Yon was an Israelite trumpet." As the words left his lips there came a hurried rapping at the portal, whereupon the guards sprang forward. "Bid them enter." Altorius seemed strangely tense and uneasy. Quietly the door rolled back as before, revealing an Atlantean whose eyes rolled with alarm. He hurried forward and flung himself on the floor at the Emperor's sandaled feet. "Harken, oh Serene Splendor! Waiting without is an embassy from his Majesty of Jarmuth. They bear words for thine Imperial Highness." "Now, by Saturn! Here's insolence--at an hour such as this!" With a furious swirl of his scarlet cloak Altorius leaped to his feet, hand on the ivory handle of his sword, which, to Nelson's amusement was not of bronze, but of good, blue-gray steel. "I'll bet it's old Sir Henry's original pet sticker," he thought. "Bring on these dogs of Israel," growled Altorius. "They shall die!" "Gently, gently, oh Splendor," murmured Hero John. "Our full force is not yet camped on the Plains of Poseidon." "Nay! Have the rogues flayed alive!" was the advice of the hot-headed elder brother. He, like the Emperor, was scowling and livid with fury. * * * * * Presently there appeared four men, stalwart warriors as totally different in aspect from the Atlanteans as humans might be. The two races were alike only in splendid physical proportions and human figures. They, the Jarmuthians, were black haired and dark skinned, whereas the Atlanteans, with the exception of Sir Henry's progeny, were red headed. Truculently the half naked ambassadors strode over the polished floor, which reflected their rude images. Their hairy chests, arms and legs afforded a sharp contrast to the neat Atlantean nobles, who drew back with expressions of disgust. "Good God!" gasped Nelson in lively surprise. "A bunch of the boys from Seventh Avenue!"