Waiko went down on his knees. His face was ashen—he was trembling in every limb. Then came a strange duet, intensified a thousand times by the whisperings. “Mitzor the Mighty.” “Pirox the Killer.” “Pirox.” “Mitzor.” “Mitzor.” “Pirox.” In a passion Kulmervan arose, and struck Waiko, down. “Lie there, thou dog,” he cried. “May thou sleep for ever in serquor. I alone am mighty. Pirox alone is great.” Waiko never moved, he showed no signs of breathing. Had he indeed fallen into the trance-like state that the inhabitants of Keemar so dreaded? It seemed hopeless to Alan, that he would ever find Chlorie in this cavern of horror. He realized at last that Kulmervan was a degenerate. The entrance of poor Murdoch had not caused the madness. No doubt he had posed as a good Keemarnian, but he suffered from the madness, and deep in his heart even denied the existence of Mitzor the Mighty, the Great White Glory, and indulged in devil worship and fetish honour. What this Cave of Whispering Madness was Alan could not conjecture—perhaps in some far gone age, fallen Jovians had met here; made the Temple for their abominable worship, and lived a second life, unsuspected by their friends. That the image in the centre was their god, Alan was convinced. But how had Kulmervan discovered it? Had it been handed down to him from his childhood, or had he in some way found it for himself? If was pitiful to see—a young Keemarnian of noble lineage, saturated with heathen mythology and heretical dogma. In truth he was a menace to his companions, living a life of deceit and sin. His was a complex character, for there was much that was sweet and lovable about him, and he was much to be pitied, for when his secret was discovered he would indeed become a pariah and an outcast. At the moment he felt he was safe, and continued his “Black Sacrifice.” For Chlorie’s sake, Alan was forced to witness in silence the horrors that followed. At the foot of the statue was a slab of stone—raised perhaps ten inches from the ground. Upon it were ominous red stains. Quickly Kulmervan set about his business. In one corner of the cave were piles of brushwood—these he piled high under the stone slab. With a mighty effort he lifted the senseless Waiko upon it, and rested his head in a tiny curve at one end. Alan shuddered to see how it fitted the neck. The use of the slab was plain to see. He set fire to the wood by one of the torches, and the smoke curled up and the wood hissed and sizzled. When the fire was safely alight, Kulmervan went to a corner of the cavern, and touched a hidden spring. A door opened, and revealed a flight of steps inside, leading below. As soon as he was out of sight, Alan rushed from his hiding place, lifted Waiko from the altar and hid him behind the mammoth fossil.