“Think you to fright me with such talk?” returned the priest scornfully. “What doth hinder me to take your friends captive also, and put them to the torture? Are they such mighty warriors that ye think they can stand against the hosts of the underworld? I know of their movements. I know that they be approaching the haunts of my people in hope to rescue their brother. I have warned them by a fire message, but I fear me they will not heed. Though they force an entrance into our caverns, they shall never return, I swear it by Ramouni, and by Rahee, sacred beast of Ramouni! Soon will I have all of ye safely in my power, and it may be that I can wrest the secret from one, if ye are stubborn. But come, Rahee waits.” Stepping over the fire-crack, Mervyn passed out of the chamber. On once more down the tunnel the priest and prisoner made their way, and behind, silent and terrible, came the two wolfish guards. Round numberless bends and curves they went, sometimes crossing a huge vaulted chamber, to plunge into a tunnel on the farther side. And ever around them, from the numerous galleries on either hand, came the sounds of machinery. At length they reached a doorway, before which hung a curtain of skins. This Nordhu pulled aside, and the four passed through into a dazzling glare of fungi light. So brilliant was the glow that it paled the light of the priest’s stone, and, for a few seconds, Mervyn was compelled to veil his eyes with his manacled hands. Presently, as they became accustomed to the glare, he was able to take note of his surroundings. He was standing in a vast natural amphitheatre in the heart of the mountain range. Around him, ledge upon ledge, terrace after terrace, rose the cliffs, and every cranny of the towering walls was crowded with fungi. Everywhere the luminous growths flourished, the floor of the amphitheatre alone being free from them. But not for long was Mervyn allowed to stand gazing upon this scene. “Come,” snapped the priest, and moved on across the floor. Soon before them loomed a gigantic idol, rudely carved in stone. It was a monstrous, misshapen, half-human figure with but one eye, and that in the centre of its forehead. Immediately in front stood a flat stone slab, which evidently served as an altar, and Mervyn shuddered as he noted the dark stains upon the surface of the stone. Doubtless many a score of victims had been sacrificed beneath the murderous knife of Nordhu upon that slab; many a savage had gone screaming to his death to satisfy the lust of the devilish priest. The two guards had instantly prostrated themselves before the monstrosity, and now lay upon their faces, muttering some doggerel or other in praise of the image. Nordhu himself bowed low, then turned furiously upon his prisoner. “Kneel!” he screamed, “kneel to Ramouni, that ye may hear his will.”