'We can't stay here. It's not many hours until dawn. Lesser priests are likely to visit the temple at any hour of the night, and if we're discovered here with his corpse, the people will tear us to pieces. The Turanians could not save us.' She lifted the bolt on the secret door, and a few moments later they were in the streets and hurrying away from the silent square where brooded the age-old shrine of Hanuman. In a winding street a short distance away Conan halted and checked his companion with a heavy hand on her naked shoulder. 'Don't forget there was a price--' 'I have not forgotten!' She twisted free. 'But we must go to--to Alafdhal first!' A few minutes later the black slave let them through the wicket door. The young Turanian lay upon the divan, his arms and legs bound with heavy velvet ropes. His eyes were open, but they were like those of a mad dog, and foam was thick on his lips. Zabibi shuddered. 'Force his jaws open!' she commanded, and Conan's iron fingers accomplished the task. Zabibi emptied the phial down the maniac's gullet. The effect was like magic. Instantly he became quiet. The glare faded from his eyes; he stared up at the girl in a puzzled way, but with recognition and intelligence. Then he fell into a normal slumber. 'When he awakes he will be quite sane,' she whispered, motioning to the silent slave. With a deep bow he gave into her hands a small leathern bag, and drew about her shoulders a silken cloak. Her manner had subtly changed when she beckoned Conan to follow her out of the chamber. In an arch that opened on the street, she turned to him, drawing herself up with a new regality. 'I must now tell you the truth,' she said. 'I am not Zabibi. I am Nafertari. And _he_ is not Alafdhal, a poor captain of the guardsmen. He is Jungir Khan, satrap of Zamboula.' Conan made no comment; his scarred dark countenance was immobile. 'I lied to you because I dared not divulge the truth to anyone,' she said. 'We were alone when Jungir Khan went mad. None knew of it but myself. Had it been known that the satrap of Zamboula was a madman, there would have been instant revolt and rioting, even as Totrasmek planned, who plotted our destruction. 'You see now how impossible is the reward for which you hoped. The satrap's mistress is not--cannot be for you. But you shall not go unrewarded. Here is a sack of gold.' She gave him the bag she had received from the slave. 'Go, now, and when the sun is come up to the palace, I will have Jungir Khan make you captain of his guard. But you will take your orders from me, secretly. Your first duty will be to march a squad to the shrine of Hanuman, ostensibly to search for clues of the priest's slayer; in reality to search for the Star of Khorala. It must be hidden there somewhere. When you find it, bring it to me. You have my leave to go now.'