Tanar stopped to ask no questions. The girl’s tone had been peremptory. Her whole manner bespoke urgency. Descending the stairway to the ground floor Tanar left the building and walked slowly toward its far end. Korsars were all about him, but they had been accustomed to seeing him, and now he held himself to a slow and careless pace that aroused no suspicion. Just beyond the end of the barracks he came to a small, heavily planked door set in the garden wall and as he arrived opposite this, it swung open and he stepped quickly within the garden, Gura instantly closing the gate behind him. “At last I have succeeded,” cried the girl, “but I thought that I never should. I have tried so hard to see you ever since Fitt took you from The Cid’s palace. I learned from one of the slaves where your quarters were in the barracks and whenever I have been free I have been always beneath your window. Twice before I saw you, but I could not attract your attention and now that I have succeeded, perhaps it is too late.” “Too late! What do you mean? Too late for what?” demanded Tanar. “Too late to save Stellara,” said the girl. “She is in danger?” asked Tanar. “The preparations for her marriage to Bulf are complete. She cannot delay it much longer.” “Why should she wish to delay it?” demanded the Sarian. “Is she not content with the man she has chosen?” “Like all men, you are a fool in matters pertaining to a woman’s heart,” cried Gura. “I know what she told me,” said Tanar. “After all that you had been through together; after all that she had been to you, how could you have believed that she loved another?” demanded Gura. “You mean that she does not love Bulf?” asked Tanar. “Of course she does not love him. He is a horrid beast.” “And she still loves me?” “She has never loved anyone else,” replied the girl. “Then why did she treat me as she did? Why did she say the things that she said?” “She was jealous.” “Jealous! Jealous of whom?” “Of me,” said Gura, dropping her eyes. The Sarian stood looking dumbly at the dark-haired Himean girl standing before him. He noted her slim body, her drooping shoulders, her attitude of dejection. “Gura,” he asked, “did I ever speak words of love to you? Did I ever give Stellara or another the right to believe that I loved you?” She shook her head. “No,” she said, “and I told Stellara that when I found out what she thought. I told her that you did not love me and finally she was convinced and asked me to find you and tell you that she still loves you. But I have another message for you from myself. I know you, Sarian. I know that you are not planning to remain here contentedly a prisoner of the Korsars. I know that you will try to escape and I have come to beg you to take Stellara with you, for she will kill herself before she will become the mate of Bulf.” “Escape,” mused Tanar. “How may it be accomplished from the heart of The Cid’s palace?”