'For what?'
'Food.'
While the magician questioned Tarzan he kept a hand upon an immense diamond that rested on a stand beside him. It was the Gonfal, the great diamond of the Kaji, that endowed its possessor with the same mysterious powers that were inherent in the great emerald of the Zuli.
The girl upon the second throne-chair sat silent and sullen, her eyes always on the ape-man. She wore breastplates of virgin gold and a stomacher covered with gold sequins. Her skirt was of the skins of unborn leopards, soft and clinging. Dainty sandals shod her, and upon her upper arms and her wrists and her ankles were many bands of copper and gold. A light crown rested upon her blond head. She was the symbol of power; but Tarzan knew that the real power lay in the grotesque and hideous figure at her side, clothed only in an old and dirty loincloth.
Finally the man motioned impatiently. 'Take him away,' he commanded.
'Am I not to choose wives for him?' demanded Gonfala. 'The women would pay well for this one.'
'Not yet,' replied her companion. 'There are reasons why I should observe him for a while. It will probably be better to destroy him than give him to the women. Take him away!'
The guard took the ape-man to an upper floor and put him in a large chamber. There they left him alone, bolting the door behind them as they departed. The apartment was absolutely bare except for two benches. Several small windows in the wall overlooking the city gave light and ventilation. In the opposite wall was an enormous fireplace in which, apparently, no fire had ever been built.
Tarzan investigated his prison. He found the windows too high above the ground to offer an avenue of escape without the aid of a rope, and he had no rope. The fireplace was the only other feature of the apartment that might arouse any interest whatsoever. It was unusually large, so deep that it resembled a cave; and when he stepped into it he did not have to stoop. He wondered why such an enormous fireplace should be built and then never used.
Entering it, he looked up the flue, thinking that here he might find a way out if the flue were built in size proportionate to the fire chamber. However, he was doomed to disappointment; not the faintest glimmer of light shone down to indicate an opening that led to the outside.
Could it be possible that the fireplace had been built merely as an architectural adornment to the chamber- that it was false? This seemed highly improbable, since the room had no other embellishment; nor was the fireplace itself of any architectural beauty, being nothing more than an opening in the wall.
What then could its purpose have been? The question intrigued the active imagination of the Lord of the Jungle. It was, of course, possible that there was a flue but that it had been closed; and this would have been the obvious explanation had the fireplace shown any indication of ever having been used. However, it did not; there was not the slightest discoloration of the interior-no fire had ever burned within it.
Tarzan reached upward as far as he could but felt no ceiling; then he ran his fingers up the rear wall of the fire chamber. Just at his finger tips he felt a ledge. Raising himself on his toes, he gripped the ledge firmly with the fingers of both hands; then he raised himself slowly upward. Even when his arms were straight and he had raised himself as far as he could his head touched no ceiling. He inclined his body slowly forward until at length he lay prone upon the ledge. The recess, then, was at least several feet deep.
He drew his legs up and then rose slowly to his feet. He raised a hand above his head, and a foot above he felt the stone of a ceiling-there was plenty of headroom. Laterally, the opening was about three feet wide.
He reached ahead to discover its depth, but his hand touched nothing; then he moved forward slowly a few steps –still nothing. Moving cautiously, he groped his way forward. Soon he was convinced of what he had suspected-he was in a corridor, and the secret of the 'fireplace' was partially revealed. But where did the corridor lead?
It was very dark. He might be on the verge of a pitfall without suspecting it. If there were branching corridors he might become hopelessly lost in a minute or two; so he kept his left hand constantly in contact with the wall on that side; he moved slowly, feeling forward with each foot before he threw his weight upon it, and his right hand was always extended before him.
Thus he moved along for a considerable distance, the corridor turning gradually to the left until he was moving at right angles to his original course. Presently he saw a faint light ahead, coming apparently from the floor of the corridor. When he approached it more closely, he saw that it came from an opening in the floor. He stopped at the brink of the opening and looked down. Some seven feet below he saw stone flagging-it was the floor of a fireplace. Evidently this secret passage led from one false fireplace to another.
He listened intently but could hear nothing other than what might have been very soft breathing-almost too faint a sound to register even upon the keen ears of the ape-man; but his nostrils caught the faint aroma of a woman.
For a moment Tarzan hesitated; then he dropped softly to the floor of the fireplace. He made no sound. Before him lay a chamber of barbarous luxury. At a window in the opposite wall, looking down upon the city, stood a golden-haired girl, her back toward the fireplace.
Tarzan did not have to see her face to know that it was Gonfala.
Chapter 9. The End of the Corridor
NOISELESSLY HE STEPPED into the chamber and moved toward the end of the room, nearer to the doorway. He sought to reach the door before she discovered him. He would rather that she did not know how he gained entrance to the room. A heavy wooden bolt fastened the door from the inside. He reached the door without attracting the girl's attention and laid a hand upon the bolt.
He slipped it back quietly; then he moved away from the door toward the window where the girl still stood absorbed in her daydream. He could see her profile. She no longer looked sullen but, rather, ineffably sad.
The man was quite close to her before she became aware of his presence. She had not heard him. She was just conscious, suddenly, that she was not alone; and she turned slowly from the window. Only a slight widening of the eyes and a little intake of her breath revealed her surprise. She did not scream; she did not exclaim.
'Don't be afraid,' he said; 'I'm not here to harm you.'
'I am not afraid,' she replied; 'I have many warriors within call. But how did you get here?' She glanced at the door and saw that the bolt was not shot. 'I must have forgotten to bolt the door, but I can't understand how you got by the guard. It is still there, isn't it?'
Tarzan did not answer. He stood looking at her, marvelling at the subtle change that had taken place in her since he had seen her in the throne room just a short time before. She was no longer the queen, but a girl, soft and sweet, appealing.
'Where is Stanley Wood?' he asked.
'What do you know of Stanley Wood?' she demanded.
'I am his friend. Where is he? What are they going to do with him?'
'You are his friend?' she asked, wonderingly, her eyes wide. 'But no, it can make no difference-no matter how many friends he has, nothing can save him.'
'You would like to see him saved?'
'Yes.'
'Then why don't you help me? You have the power.'
'No, I can't. You don't understand. I am queen. It is I who must sentence him to death.'
'You helped him escape once,' Tarzan reminded her.
'Hush! Not so loud,' she cautioned. 'Mafka suspects that already. If he knew, I don't know what he would do to him and to me. But I know he suspects. That is the reason I am kept in this room with a heavy guard. He says it is for my protection, but I know better.'
'Where is this Mafka? I'd like to see him.'
'You have seen him. You were just brought before him in the throne room.'
'That was Woora,' objected Tarzan.
She shook her bead. 'No. What put that idea in your head? Woora is with the Zuli.'
