'Only Valbroso will I tell,' he gasped in Zingaran. 'Death is upon me. Lean close to me, Valbroso!' The count did so, his dark face lit with avarice; behind him his saturnine captain, Beloso, crowded closer. 'Press the seven skulls on the rim, one after another,' gasped Zorathus. 'Press then the head of the dragon that writhes across the lid. Then press the sphere in the dragon's claws. That will release the secret catch.' 'Quick, the box!' cried Valbroso with an oath. Conan lifted it and set it on a dais, and Valbroso shouldered him aside. 'Let me open it!' cried Beloso, starting forward. Valbroso cursed him back, his greed blazing in his black eyes. 'None but me shall open it!' he cried. Conan, whose hand had instinctively gone to his hilt, glanced at Zorathus. The man's eyes were glazed and bloodshot, but they were fixed on Valbroso with burning intensity; and was there the shadow of a grim twisted smile on the dying man's lips? Not until the merchant knew he was dying had he given up the secret. Conan turned to watch Valbroso, even as the dying man watched him. Along the rim of the lid seven skulls were carved among intertwining branches of strange trees. An inlaid dragon writhed its way across the top of the lid amid ornate arabesques. Valbroso pressed the skulls in fumbling haste, and as he jammed his thumb down on the carved head of the dragon he swore sharply and snatched his hand away, shaking it in irritation. 'A sharp point on the carvings,' he snarled. 'I've pricked my thumb.' He pressed the gold ball clutched in the dragon's talons, and the lid flew abruptly open. Their eyes were dazzled by a golden flame. It seemed to their dazed minds that the carven box was full of glowing fire that spilled over the rim and dripped through the air in quivering flakes. Beloso cried out and Valbroso sucked in his breath. Conan stood speechless, his brain snared by the blaze. 'Mitra, what a jewel!' Valbroso's hand dived into the chest, came out with a great pulsing crimson sphere that filled the room with a lambent glow. In its glare Valbroso looked like a corpse. And the dying man on the loosened rack laughed wildly and suddenly. 'Fool!' he screamed. 'The jewel is yours! I give you death with it! The scratch on your thumb--look at the dragon's head, Valbroso!' They all wheeled, stared. Something tiny and dully gleaming stood up from the gaping, carved mouth. 'The dragon's fang!' shrieked Zorathus. 'Steeped in the venom of the black Stygian scorpion! Fool, fool to open the box of Zorathus with your naked hand! Death! You are a dead man now!' And with bloody foam on his lips he died.