A DIABOLICAL TORTURE CHAMBER.
The plans of Prince Destho for the reconquest of Uxpo were
materializing rapidly, as he breakfasted leisurely in the throne room
of his castle several days later. He had sent no less than fifty hired
assassins to slay Grandon, and, if this failed, had a huge army of
thirty thousand men assembled in and around his stronghold, ready to
march on the rebellious kingdom.
Daintily selecting small tidbits from a huge tray containing an immense
assortment of choice viands which four slaves held for him beside the
scarlet-cushioned throne, he conversed condescendingly with a group
of his officers who stood on either side of him in an attitude of
respectful attention.
A courier, dusty and bedraggled was hurried before the throne.
"How now, Torbo?" asked Destho, glancing down at the courier. "What
tidings from Uxpo?"
"Grandon of Terra has been slain and his body lies in state at the
royal palace!"
"Great news, if true. Who slew him?"
"I do not know, but it is rumored that the men who succeeded in the
attempt were, themselves, slain."
"Did you see the body?"
"I did, your majesty, and the features were so horribly mutilated as to
be unrecognizable. I also regret to inform your majesty that your chief
assassin, Malcabar was slain yesterday morning."
Destho turned to his councillors. "We will not disband our army yet,"
he said. "I must have a further confirmation of this."
A few minutes later, two of the castle guards entered, ushering between
them a tall, bearded man in the uniform of a soldier of Reabon. All
three made the customary salute before the throne, then they rose, and
the two guards stepped back, leaving the tall soldier in the center of
the floor.
"Whom have we here?" asked Destho, addressing one of the guards.
"His papers proclaim him one Xantol of Uxpo, resident helper of the
spy, Malcabar, and a bearer of tidings for your highness."
Destho looked long and appraisingly at the soldier. It seemed that
those black eyes were searching the usurper's very soul.
"Your tidings, Xantol," snapped Destho.
"I have been sent to inform your highness of a rumor being circulated
in Uxpo, to the effect that Grandon of Terra has been slain."
"A rumor, say you? You bring us stale news, fellow. We have already
been apprised that the villainous impostor is dead and that his
mutilated body lies in state in the palace."
Destho turned to the guard.
"Who signed this man's papers?" he asked.
"They are signed by Malcabar."
Destho elevated his eyebrows ever so slightly.
"By Malcabar? Let me see them."
He examined the papers carefully.
"The writing and signature seem genuine," he said: "Send for that
courier again!"
As Torbo reëntered, bowing low, Destho snarled:
"So! You found it expedient to lie to me, Torbo!"
"I--lie to your highness?" exclaimed Torbo in surprise. "Surely it
pleases your highness to jest with his humble servant."
"You told me that Malcabar was slain yesterday morning. I have here
a letter, written and signed by him last evening. Can the dead write
letters?"
"If you have a letter from Malcabar, then indeed can the dead write
letters, for I swear by the bones of Thorth that I saw him lead the
attack on the usurper yesterday morning and a huge armored guard clove
him from crown to chin."
* * * * *
Destho looked searchingly from Torbo to the soldier, and from the
soldier back to Torbo.
"One of you lies, that is certain," he said, "and you may rest assured,
both of you, that the guilty man will be discovered and dealt with for
his perfidy."
"May I ask who brought the letter?" asked Torbo.
"I brought the letter," replied the soldier.
"And who are you?"
"Xantol of Uxpo, resident helper of Malcabar."
Torbo flushed angrily.
"This man lies," he said. "Malcabar had no Uxponian helpers. All were
men of Reabon, and all died with him yesterday morning."
"You were acquainted with Malcabar's assistants?" asked Destho.
"Every one of them."
"And you have never seen this man before?"
"I have seen him somewhere," replied Torbo, knitting his brows. "His
face is familiar yet unfamiliar." He approached the soldier and scanned
his features carefully. Then he burst into a loud laugh.
"Shoot me for a hahoe if this man wears not a false beard," he said,
and to prove his statement he suddenly reached forward and plucked a
handful of hair from the man's face.
The Uxponian whipped out his scarbo, but strong arms pinioned his own
from behind, and, in a moment, he was deprived of his blade and stood
helpless in the grip of the two burly guards.
"Pluck a few more feathers from this bird and see if you can identify
him," said Destho.
"That is unnecessary," replied Torbo, "for I have recognized him
already. He is Grandon of Terra!"
Had a thunderbolt crashed through the arched ceiling at that moment it
could hardly have created more surprise. Destho was dumfounded.
"Grandon of Terra?" he exclaimed. "But you told me that he was dead."
"I did not tell you that I saw him die," replied Torbo, "and this man
here is unquestionably Grandon of Terra."
A gleam of triumph shone in the eyes of Destho at these words.
"You are more of a fool than I took you to be, Grandon of Terra," he
said. "Perhaps even more of a fool than you took me for."
"It is possible," replied Grandon, "that I surpass you in folly. You
have, however, two other qualities on which I must yield you all
honors."
"And those are--"
"Treachery and cowardice!"
Destho's brows contracted and his face flamed with rage.
"Away with him," he roared. "Let him meditate on his folly in the
darkness of the dungeon until we have use for him."
The burly guards hustled Grandon out of a side door and along a narrow
passage to a winding stairway which seemed to lead into the very bowels
of the earth, so long were they in descending. After manacling his
wrists and ankles they pushed him into a dark, foul-smelling hole and
slammed and fastened a heavy metal door which fitted so snugly that not
the tiniest ray of light was admitted.
As he lay on the damp, slimy floor, Grandon pondered the words of
Destho. The phrase "until we have use for him" was puzzling. Of what
possible use could he be to his captor, other than to afford him
pleasure by his death throes?
* * * * *
Grandon was not to be kept in suspense as to what the usurper Destho
planned to do with his captive. After a short interval, two guards
entered Grandon's dungeon, removed the manacles from his ankles, and
led him up the spiral stairway.
They did not go all the way to the top, but turned off through a narrow
doorway which Grandon judged to be about halfway to the ground level.
A short walk along a dimly-lighted passage brought them to an
underground chamber which looked to Grandon like a workshop or
laboratory of some sort, for it contained several unusual appearing
contrivances.
In one corner was a raised circular platform covered with a resilient
material greatly resembling rubber. He noticed that there was a hole
in the center of the platform, and that a pipe, evidently connected
with the hole, led from under it to a small motor which stood near by.
A huge glass bell was suspended by a pulley above the platform and a
steel chair stood beside it. The only other articles of furniture in
the room were a wooden chair and table on which were writing materials.
The two guards chained Grandon to the steel chair and, lifting him
between them, placed him on the raised platform directly above the hole.
A moment later Destho entered. He looked at Grandon with a grim smile.
Then he turned to the nearest guard.
"I see you have things in readiness. Now bring her imperial majesty and
see that her face be veiled so that none may recognize her on the way."
Scarce had the guard left to do the bidding of his master ere Bopo,
captain of Destho's private guards, entered.
"Where is the document, dolt?" demanded Destho. "Have you failed to
prepare it?"
"Here," replied Bopo, hastily drawing a scroll from beneath his
garments. "I kept it hid, as your majesty commanded secrecy in the
matter."
"Good. Let me have it."
Destho read the document hastily. Then he read it again more slowly.
"Are you sure this is the correct legal form?" he asked.
"I am positive, your majesty."
Destho placed the scroll on the table, then crossed the room and bowed
politely as the guard returned, leading a woman whose face was heavily
veiled.
Suddenly she flung back her veil and rushed forward with a little
smothered cry, paying no attention whatever to Destho. Grandon's heart
leaped to his throat at sight of her pale face and golden tresses.
"Vernia!" he exclaimed, and would have risen, but the chains held him.
"My Grandon--my hero!" she cried as her lips found his and clung there,
and her arms went about his neck. He tried to lift his manacled hands
to smooth her hair as she buried her face on his shoulder, sobbing
incoherently.
"But why did you come here alone--to certain death?" she cried.
Grandon whispered his answer in her ear. "Zueppa, though fearfully
wounded, managed to reach me with tidings of your whereabouts. It would
have been futile to bring my small army, so I came alone, disguised as
the helper of an assassin who attempted my life."
"Enough of this whispering!" cried Destho, smiling maliciously, as he
tore her from her lover and led her to the chair beside the table.
* * * * *
"A pleasant surprise I prepared for you, fair cousin, was it not?"
Destho said. "You have had your little emotional outburst. Now let us
get down to business. I have a document here which needs only your
signature to make it legal. Read it aloud, Bopo, that all may hear and
bear witness."
Bopo took the scroll and advanced pompously to the center of the floor.
He unrolled it with a flourish, cleared his throat, and read aloud:
"'A proclamation by her imperial majesty, Vernia, Princess of Reabon:
"'On the twenty-fourth day of the eighth Endir in the four thousand and
tenth year of Thorth, I, Vernia of Reabon, hereby proclaim and declare
to all my subjects throughout the length and breadth of the empire that
I have taken for my husband, and raised to the office of emperor, to
rule over me and my people, the brave and illustrious Prince Destho.
"'It is my command that copies of this proclamation be made and
distributed to all parts of the empire without delay, and that the
fifth day of the ninth Endir be set aside as a day for feasting and
suitable celebration in honor of this momentous event.'"
He finished and handed the scroll to Destho, who spread it on the table
before Vernia.
She looked up with flashing eyes.
"Surely you do not expect me to sign such a ridiculous document?" she
said.
"You refuse?"
For answer she seized it and flung it from her.
"More temperament," said Destho, coolly, picking up the scroll. "You
compel me to use persuasion."
He made a sign to the guard, who grinned broadly and, losing the chain
by which the glass bell was suspended, lowered it until it rested
firmly on the elastic edges of the platform where Grandon sat, calm and
immobile in the iron chair.
"It is plainly evident," said Destho, "that you have some regard for
yonder doomed man."
Vernia started at his words.
"Though he is a rebel and a traitor and richly deserves death, you
could have saved his life, merely by signing your name. As it is, you
shall have the pleasure of witnessing his death struggles. Start the
motor."
The burly guard crossed to the motor with a grin more broad than
before, and pressed a button.
* * * * *
Vernia, peering intently through the glass, saw Grandon flinch slightly
when the thing started. Then he compressed his lips and settled back as
if resolved to meet his fate calmly. Presently she noticed that he was
breathing convulsively with nostrils distended.
"Stop! You are killing him!" she screamed. "Stop that terrible thing. I
will sign. I will do anything."
Destho made a sign to the guard, who pressed another button and opened
a valve, but not before Grandon's head had sunk limply forward. There
was a loud hissing sound and he raised his head, gasping weakly.
"I thought you might be brought to reason, stubborn and headstrong
though you are," said Destho with a smile of triumph.
He placed the scroll before her and she paused for a moment, for
Grandon was looking at her through the glass and shaking his head
emphatically.
"I cannot do it," she said weakly.
"Very well," replied Destho. He turned to the guard. "Start the motor.
There will be no stopping it this time."
"No, no!" cried Vernia. "Do not start it. I will sign."
Again Destho motioned for the guard to desist. Vernia held the scroll,
half rolled, before her. She looked at Grandon for a moment as if in
silent farewell. Then she tore her eyes from his with a visible effort
and resolutely affixed her name to the document.
Destho seized it eagerly and examined the signature. Then he rolled it
up, stuffed it in his bosom, and with a diabolical laugh, walked to the
motor, closed the valve and pressed the button.
Vernia, sensing his purpose, screamed frantically and ran to shut the
thing off, but he intercepted her and forced her back in the chair.
"I am legal emperor of Reabon now," he said. "There is no more need for
force, for my word is law. I now decree that this traitor shall die,
and you, in company with your beloved husband, will have the pleasure
of watching his death struggles."