"Nor," he went on, his voice rising, "will the Divine wrath be softened so long as we, undutiful children that we are, suffer them to live--these devils that have come amongst us in the forms of men! Death!" his voice rising until the hall rang with the fierce tones. "Death to them, I say! Let death be swift and sure! And thus will Drome be spared sorrows, blood and miseries that, else, will wring the heart of the babe newborn and cause it to rise up and fearfully curse father and mother for bringing it into a world of such madness and woe!" The effect of this impassioned and fiendish outburst was instantaneous and fearful. Something that was like a groan, a growl and a roar filled that great room. One who has never heard it could never believe that so strange and so frightful a sound could come from human throats. The Dromans sprang to their feet--not men and women now, but metamorphosed by the cunning and the diablerie of Brendaldoombro into veritable fiends. "We're in for it, Bill!" cried Milton, springing to his feet and whipping out his revolver. I sprang to his side, and we faced them. Drorathusa, with a fierce cry, threw herself between us and the crowd. We were moving slowly backward, back toward the throne. The voice of our Sibyl rang out clear and full. A moment or two, and it was evident that her words were quieting the mad passions of the mob, for mob, at that moment, it certainly was, though composed of the élite of the Droman world. Then of a sudden, full, clear, ringing and aquiver with wrath and suppressed passion, came the voice of Lathendra Lepraylya. Oh, what a vision of fierce loveliness was she as she stood there! Brendaldoombro had come within a hair's-breadth of achieving his diabolical purpose. And a most ugly vision of thwarted evil was he at that moment. He knew his auditors, though, and he knew his power. Again he raised his impassioned voice. Lepraylya, however, turned upon him fiercely. "Peace!" she cried. "I bid you, peace--yes, even you, O Brendaldoombro, High Priest of Drome though you are! "What! You would still make of this room a shambles, stain the very throne of your queen with human blood!" "They are not human!" he shrieked. "They are demons that have assumed the bodies of men!" A murmur of superstitious horror arose. "Ho, guard!" cried the queen. "Guard, ho!" It is my belief that some cool-headed gentleman had bethought himself of the guard before ever the queen, for it was only a few moments before a score or so of armed men had entered the room and taken a position, in the form of a semicircle, before the throne. The eyes of Lathendra Lepraylya were blazing like that great jewel on her brow. Those eyes were fixed upon Brendaldoombro, and I actually thought that the old raptor quailed a little under that look of outraged majesty. If this was indeed so, it was for an instant or two only. His look, one of baffled fury, then became fixed and defiant.