For the first time he became aware of a curious object which stood
within the grisly vault, and that not far behind him. It was a long,
coffin-shaped thing, and now, as two of those who had been seated there
arose, and, kindling torches from the fire, approached it, he saw that
it took on another shape, that of a long, lounge bath in fact. It was
raised from the floor on metal feet, and the thing itself was made of
metal, but of such ancient and strange manufacture that the British
Museum, say, would probably have given a very large sum to possess. As
the flare of the torches gleamed upon this he could see something else.
The fronting side of the structure was engraved with subjects of a
hideous and revolting nature--that of human beings in process of being
done to death under every circumstance of prolonged torment, and one of
them, and the most prominent, by means of just such an implement as
this. For there reproduced, was an exact facsimile of it. A fire was
represented as burning underneath, and out of it the head and shoulders
of a man appeared--the open mouthed, staring expression on the face
conveying the indescribable and ghastly agony which the sufferer was
undergoing.
Mervyn stared at the thing, and his blood froze. Here was his own fate
represented. To lie for hours in that dreadful bath undergoing a
process of slow boiling, this was what it meant. He had heard of this
being done, knew that it actually was done. The cold sweat poured from
his forehead, and he looked wildly in front for a means of putting a
quick end to his existence. He had expected the quick, painless death,
which his guest had died under his own roof at Heath Hover--but this!
Allah-din Khan's deep voice broke through the terror of the spell that
was on him.
"Use no art to avoid this, double traitor, for it is thee or another.
If not thee, then the sun-crowned woman who is with thee shall lie
yonder. By the tomb of the Prophet it shall be so."
A mist rose before his eyes and he swayed. The very fiend from Hell was
speaking, of a surety. He wondered whether he could overcome his
momentary faintness, lest they should think he had eluded them, and
proceed to put their hellish threat into immediate execution. Great
Heaven! was this some awful, shocking nightmare from which he should
presently wake? Was ever any one confronted with such an alternative?
Death he had expected, but these hours perhaps of fiendish torture? But
it was himself or Melian. These devils were not to be balked.
Now he saw that there were piles of kindling wood standing beside the
horrid implement. The ring of diabolical faces confronting him looked
terrific in the fell, ruthless purpose, which he read therein. But for
the alternative he would have made a frenzied dash at the nearest weapon
and died fighting. Now, the alternative utterly disarmed him. He would
make one appeal.
"Give me the Star, that I may die by it," he said. "I have a right to."
"Thou art no longer of its Brotherhood, double traitor," answered
Allah-din Khan. "For thee, the boiling fat."
At a sign from him one of the two who had been mounting guard over the
entrance advanced, and tearing out handfuls from the stacks of kindling
wood, began to arrange them beneath the grim receptacle. The victim
watched the process with a sort of dazed, numbed attention.
And then, as he looked again at the ring of his tormentors, something he
saw made him wonder whether his head was going round with him, or
whether his reeling brain had actually and indeed given way beneath the
shock.