But now the Athenian's eyes had narrowed. His head came forward, just a fraction. It had the effect of making his body loom even larger than before. He looked belligerent and dangerous. Burke tried again. "Theseus--" "No." Without volition, Burke found his finger tightening on the Smith & Wesson's trigger. Beside Theseus, the maid whimpered. "Master Theseus--the thunderbolts--" The Athenian snorted. "He's no god; he's a man. But if he reaches Minos with a tale of having found me in the Princess Ariadne's quarters, I'll be a long time dying." He licked thick lips. "No. Better that _he_ should die. Here. Now." He lunged at Burke. Leaping aside, Burke thrust a foot between his charging adversary's legs. The Athenian lurched wildly, clawing at the air. Gun high for a quick blow, Burke leaped in close behind him. Only then, incredibly, the other was whirling on one foot, with all the grace and skill of a ballet dancer. Simultaneously, the other foot whipped up, kicking for Burke's groin. With a desperate effort, Burke caught the blow on his forearms. But now it was he who'd been feinted off balance. Before he could recover, a left-handed blow sent him tottering backwards. Then he hit a couch. His knees hinged. He sprawled belly-up exposed and helpless. * * * * * Like lightning, Theseus seized a great stone jar, a pithoi. Muscles bulging, with unbelievable strength he swung it high above his head, poised to dash down on Burke. Burke jerked his revolver up and fired in one spasmodic movement, straight at the pithoi. Gun-thunder echoed through the chamber. The great jar shattered, cascading slack-jawed Theseus with shards and oil. Burke rolled from the couch and stumbled to a new defense-point against the nearest wall. But one shot had been enough for the Hero of Athens. He still stood blank-eyed, looking more stupid than ever as he stared in a sort of numb fascination at the shattered stoneware about his feet. As for the maid, she'd fainted. And the expression lovely Ariadne now wore was beyond Burke's power to read. But already, feet were pounding in the corridor outside. Guards poured into the room, half-a-dozen of them--great, strapping blacks with spears and swords and shields. Six guards ... and only three shots left in the revolver. Now the Cretan who seemed to be in command of the Negroes looked about uncertainly. "What happened, princess?" he asked. "Who are these men, these strangers?" For a moment, Burke thought, a smile almost flickered at the corners of Ariadne's mouth. Then, coolly, she said, "They're strangers to me, too, warrior. I only know that when I came in, this one"--a gesture to Burke--"was tearing the clothes from my maid. Then, he swore he'd possess me, also, and would have, had it not been that this other,"--the gesture was to Theseus this time--"fought to save me." The Cretan's nostrils flared. He spat an order to the guards: "This dog is yours. Slay him!"