"Go and awaken her," shouted Tarzan through the door. "Tell her that Tarzan is here and wishes to see her at once."
"I am afraid," replied the girl. "The Queen will be angry. Go away, and come in the morning."
Then Tarzan heard another voice beyond the door demanding, "Who is it comes pounding on Nemone's door at such an hour?" and recognized it as the Queen's.
"It is the noble Tarzan," replied the slave girl.
"Draw the bolts and admit him," commanded Nemone, and as the door swung open Tarzan stepped into the ivory room, now so familiar to him.
The Queen stood halfway across the apartment, facing him. Her hair was dishevelled, her face slightly flushed. She had evidently arisen from her bed in an adjoining room and thrown a light scarf about her before stepping into the ivory room. She was very beautiful. There was an eager, questioning light in her eyes. She directed the slave to rebolt the door and leave the apartment; then she turned and, walking to the couch, motioned Tarzan to approach. As she sank among the soft cushions she motioned Tarzan to her side.
"I am glad you came," she said. "I could not sleep. I have been thinking of you. But tell me! why did you come? Had you been thinking of me?"
"I have been thinking of you, Nemone," replied the ape-man; "I have been thinking that perhaps you will help me; that you can help me, I know."
"You have only to ask," replied the Queen softly. "There is no favor that you may not have from Nemone for the asking."
A single cresset shed a soft, flickering light that scarcely dispelled the darkness of the room, at the far end of which the yellow-green eyes of Belthar blazed like twin lamps of Hell. Mingling with the acrid scent of the carnivore and the languorous fumes of incense was the seductive aura of the scented body of the woman. Her warm breath was on Tarzan's cheek as she drew him down beside her.