But Loto was indicating the pavilion's interior. The crowd was standing motionless, gazing upward. A small dais was poised in mid-air above the floor in the center of the room. It floated there, seemingly with nothing to sustain it. Standing on tiptoe on the dais was a woman, wrapped to the eyes in scarlet draperies. She was facing the king over a distance of some twenty feet. The music, which had been stilled for a moment, murmured softly from its unseen niche. Fahn whispered to Rogers, "Our workmen of the League equipped that dais for the king. He begged us--and I feel now that it was a mistake." Loto added: "It is made from our newly invented war equipment. The dais is covered with a fabric--electrically charged, and repulsive to the earth. It's radio controlled, Father. A workman from the cavern is over there in the corner, behind that drape. We've kept the fabric a secret, but the king wanted to use it for the dais." The woman was singing in a throbbing contralto, very soft at first, then gradually louder. As she sang, slowly she unwound the draperies, letting them drop from her like quivering flame to a smoldering pile at her feet. Beneath it were other draperies, flame-colored like the rest, but her arms and face were bare--full, rounded, milk-white arms--a heavy face with scarlet lips. "Helene," Loto whispered. "The Bas call her what means 'Mme. Voluptua.' It is she who rules the king _and the nation_. Look at her!" The king was standing up. The music grew louder, fiercer, with a thrilling minor cadence. The woman's arms were extended; she stood poised, smiling as she sang to the king. From her outflung arms the gauze drapery hung like quivering wings, with the white of her body gleaming beneath it. The black hair piled high on her head held two spangles of gold trembling at the end of delicate golden wires. She stood, a great scarlet moth, hovering before flight. Staring in fascination, the king had left his seat and descended to the floor. The crowd parted to make way for him as he slowly moved toward the dais which floated down to meet him. Every eye was on him and on the woman, who now was extending her arms down in invitation. The music and the song were at their height. The dais reached the floor; the king stepped upon it and, as the woman's hand touched his shoulder, he dropped on one knee before her, his lips at the hem of her scarlet gauze. A leer of triumph on the woman's face; a murmur of applause from the watching throng. Then a black cloak fell from a figure close beside the dais; a man leaped upon it--the naked figure of a man in loin-cloth. A knife flashed--blue-white steel in the light from above. The song rose to a shuddering scream. The scarlet figure wilted and sank among its draperies at the feet of the kneeling king.