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Bewildered and overcome with unspeakable dread, he drew his dagger he would at least, he thought, put the tortured sufferer out of his misery, ... but scarcely had his weapon left the sheath, when Lysia's clear, cold voice exclaimed: "Disarm him!" and with the silent rapidity of a lightning-flash, Gazra glided to his side, and the steel was snatched from his hand.
What chiefly concerned him however was the peculiar change in Sah-luma's demeanor, something in the aspect or speech of Gazra had surely exercised a remarkable influence upon him. His frame trembled through and through with scarcely controlled excitement, . . his eyes shot forth an almost evil fire, . . and a cold, calm, somewhat cruel smile played on the perfect outline of his delicate month.
Sah-luma rising also, but with less precipitation, surveyed the intruder languidly and with a certain haughtiness. "What now, Gazra? Always art thou like a worm in the grass, crawling on thine errand with less noise than the wind makes in summer, . . I would thy mistress kept a fairer messenger!"
She made a slight imperative gesture of command to Gazra, who at once approached, and, bending over the dead Nir-jalis, proceeded to strip off all the gold clasps and valuable jewels that had so lavishly adorned the ill-fated young man's attire, then beckoning another slave nearly as tall and muscular as himself, they attached to the neck and feet of the corpse round, leaden, bullet-shaped weights, fastened by means of heavy iron chains.
Here is thy weapon.." and she thrust into his hand a dagger, the very dagger her slave Gazra, had deprived him of, when by its prompt use he might have mercifully ended the cruel torments of Nir-jalis, "Let thy stroke be strong and unfaltering, . . stab him to the heart, the cold, cold, selfish heart that has never ached with a throb of pity! ... kill him!
The attendant slaves stood all mute and motionless, with the exception of Gazra, who surveyed the torments of Nir-jalis with an air of professional interest, and appeared to be waiting till they should have reached that pitch of excruciating agony when Nature, exhausted, gives up the conflict and welcomes death as a release from pain. But this desirable end was not yet.
I am summoned by express command, to the Palace of our sovereign lord the King.. I am bound thither first as is my duty, but afterwards ..." He broke off as if he found it impossible to say more, and waved his hand in a light sign of dismissal. But Gazra did not at once depart.
As he did this, the clear, olive cheek of Sah-luma flushed darkly red, his chest heaved, and linking his arm through that of Theos, he bent his head slightly and stood like one in an enforced attitude of attention. Then Gazra spoke, his harsh, strong voice seeming to come from some devil in the ground rather than from a human throat.
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