Jav sat up and gazed at the spectacle before him—the slender girl weaving her fingers in the tawny mane of the huge creature that he had thought divine, while Komal rubbed his hideous snout against her side. “So this is your god!” laughed Thuvia. Jav looked bewildered. He scarce knew whether he dare chance offending Komal or not, for so strong is the power of superstition that even though we know that we have been reverencing a sham, yet still we hesitate to admit the validity of our new-found convictions. “Yes,” he said, “this is Komal. For ages the enemies of Tario have been hurled to this pit to fill his maw, for Komal must be fed.” “Is there any way out of this chamber to the avenues of the city?” asked Carthoris. Jav shrugged. “I do not know,” he replied. “Never have I been here before, nor ever have I cared to do so.” “Come,” suggested Thuvia, “let us explore. There must be a way out.” Together the three approached the doorway through which Komal had entered the apartment that was to have witnessed their deaths. Beyond was a low-roofed lair, with a small door at the far end. This, to their delight, opened to the lifting of an ordinary latch, letting them into a circular arena, surrounded by tiers of seats. “Here is where Komal is fed in public,” explained Jav. “Had Tario dared it would have been here that our fates had been sealed; but he feared too much thy keen blade, red man, and so he hurled us all downward to the pit. I did not know how closely connected were the two chambers. Now we may easily reach the avenues and the city gates. Only the bowmen may dispute the right of way, and, knowing their secret, I doubt that they have power to harm us.” Another door led to a flight of steps that rose from the arena level upward through the seats to an exit at the back of the hall. Beyond this was a straight, broad corridor, running directly through the palace to the gardens at the side. No one appeared to question them as they advanced, mighty Komal pacing by the girl’s side. “Where are the people of the palace—the jeddak’s retinue?” asked Carthoris. “Even in the city streets as we came through I scarce saw sign of a human being, yet all about are evidences of a mighty population.” Jav sighed. “Poor Lothar,” he said. “It is indeed a city of ghosts. There are scarce a thousand of us left, who once were numbered in the millions. Our great city is peopled by the creatures of our own imaginings. For our own needs we do not take the trouble to materialize these peoples of our brain, yet they are apparent to us. “Even now I see great throngs lining the avenue, hastening to and fro in the round of their duties. I see women and children laughing on the balconies—these we are forbidden to materialize; but yet I see them—they are here. . . . But why not?” he mused. “No longer need I fear Tario—he has done his worst, and failed. Why not indeed? “Stay, friends,” he continued. “Would you see Lothar in all her glory?”