He nodded without other answer, his expression one of a frowning consideration. "And thereby lose the second trick and the game altogether," I rejoined. For it had come to me that Kalamita's suggested meeting was in the nature of nothing more nor less than a trap. "Eh?" Croft threw up his head. His glance burned into mine. "Do you really think if you went up there to meet that tawny she devil, the Mouthpiece of Zitu--Tamarizia's big man--would be given chance to return?" For a moment after I finished Croft said nothing, and then, "By Zitu--Murray, you're right! I must have been blind! I'll--I'll have to send another than myself. We've got to keep a few cards in our hand. But--consider my position." "I do," I said. "I understand it perfectly, old man. I don't expect a man to keep cool in a game where the stakes are his wife and son." He shook his head. "It isn't that only, Murray. I dare not sacrifice Tamarizia, either--and I won't fail Naia. Think, man--think--there must be a way to serve both ends." "Perhaps what Naia herself suggested," I made tentative answer. Pride flashed momentarily in his eyes and died. "The invention of another--a superior weapon," he said. "Zitu--the thought fired me when she named it. Hah! She knew we were present--and she led the conversation to inform us in advance of what was proposed. It was like her, Murray, but--man, how can I risk it? You heard that fiend of Adita's oath after Naia left her--to Bel with Jason's son." "I know," I said slowly. "But do you know its meaning?" Croft's question was strained. "No," I admitted. "Murray"--he leaned toward me; there was agony in his thought vibration--"they practise the hellish rites of ancient Phoenicia in the northern nation. The child would be burned." Burned--Jason, Son of Jason--a living sacrifice! The rites of the Phoenicians! The thought staggered me, revolted, as it lifted to mind the picture of Moloch--the brazen god into whose insensate arms children and babes and maidens were cast--and I recalled that, as well as Moloch, that savage divinity had been known as Bel, and marveled at the similarity of names. A tremor of horror shook me. And yet by a strange association of thought, as it seemed to me then, another thought was born. Bel--Moloch--flame. On impulse I named the thing to Croft, and waited, until: "Zitu--God," he said, and then, "Man--it may be the answer, if there is nothing else. Now, I've got to let Zud and Jadgor and Lakkon know what has happened. And I've got to get a message off to Robur. He's Naia's cousin, as I've told you, and I love him like a brother. Will you go with me on my missions, or will you return to your body, as I must to mine?" "If you don't mind," I decided, "I'd like to know all that happens, and I'll linger around until dawn." He nodded. "I'll be glad to feel you with me, and as soon as I reach Himyra I'll manage to visit you again. Look into the thing you suggested, won't you?"