A subtle temptation came to him as he sat there in the fiery cell, to yield to circumstances, to drift with the tide.
Almost it overcame him, but to his aid came another thought. What guarantee had he that Nordhu would fulfil his promise and set him free if he obeyed him? Would not the priest rather keep him captive, that he might wring from him knowledge of other things besides firearms?
It was scarcely likely that he would allow such a prize as Mervyn would prove to slip through his fingers, promise or no promise.
“No,” the scientist muttered; “he can shrivel me to a cinder if he likes. I will not obey him!” So was his determination taken.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
“RAHEE THE TERRIBLE!”
“WHAT sayest thou? Wilt live or die?”
Many hours had passed since Mervyn made his decision.
The flaming barrier had sunk back into the depths whence it sprang, and Nordhu stood once more before his captive.
The scientist faced the priest boldly.