Conan had already moved. Soundlessly as a shadow he drew her behind the nearest hut, beneath the straggling palms. They stood in tense stillness, while the low mutterings both had heard grew louder until voices were distinguishable. A group of negroes, some nine or ten, were coming along the road from the direction of the city. The girl clutched Conan's arm and he felt the terrified quivering of her supple body against his. Now they could understand the gutturals of the black men. 'Our brothers have already assembled at the pit,' said one. 'We have had no luck. I hope they have enough for us.' 'Aram promised us a man,' muttered another, and Conan mentally promised Aram something. 'Aram keeps his word,' grunted yet another. 'Many a man we have taken from his tavern. But we pay him well. I myself have given him ten bales of silk I stole from my master. It was good silk, by Set!' The blacks shuffled past, bare splay feet scuffing up the dust, and their voices dwindled down the road. 'Well for us those corpses are lying behind these huts,' muttered Conan. 'If they look in Aram's death-room they'll find another. Let's begone.' 'Yes, let us hasten!' begged the girl, almost hysterical again. 'My lover is wandering somewhere in the streets alone. The negroes may take him.' 'A devil of a custom this is!' growled Conan, as he led the way toward the city, paralleling the road but keeping behind the huts and straggling trees. 'Why don't the citizens clean out these black dogs?' 'They are valuable slaves,' murmured the girl. 'There are so many of them they might revolt if they were denied the flesh for which they lust. The people of Zamboula know they skulk the streets at night, and all are careful to remain within locked doors, except when something unforeseen happens, as it did to me. The blacks prey on anything they catch, but they seldom catch anybody but strangers. The people of Zamboula are not concerned with the strangers that pass through the city. 'Such men as Aram Baksh sell these strangers to the blacks. He would not dare attempt such a thing with a citizen.' Conan spat in disgust, and a moment later led his companion out into the road which was becoming a street, with still, unlighted houses on each side. Slinking in the shadows was not congenial to his nature. 'Where do you want to go?' he asked. The girl did not seem to object to his arm about her waist. 'To my house, to rouse my servants,' she answered. 'To bid them search for my lover. I do not wish the city--the priests--anyone--to know of his madness. He--he is a young officer with a promising future. Perhaps we can drive this madness from him if we can find him.' 'If _we_ find him?' rumbled Conan. 'What makes you think I want to spend the night scouring the streets for a lunatic?'