She shuddered. "Killed!" she repeated. "Yes, they are all killed, the kings and queens of Cathne; but it is not my turn yet. While Belthar lives Nemone lives." She was silent for a moment. "You may live too, Tarzan; there is something that I would rather see you do than see you die." She paused as though expecting him to ask her what it was, but he manifested no interest, and she continued, "Last night I knelt at your feet and begged for your love. Kneel here, before my people, kneel at my feet and beg for mercy, and you may live."
"Bring on your lion," said Tarzan; "his mercy might be kinder than Nemone's."
"You refuse?" she demanded angrily.
"You would kill me eventually," he replied; "there is a chance that the lion may not be able to."
"Not a chance!" she said. "Have you seen the lion?"
"No."
She turned and called a noble, "Have the hunting lion brought to scent the quarry!"
Behind them there was a scattering of troops and nobles as they made an avenue for the hunting lion and his keepers, and along the avenue Tarzan saw a great lion straining at the golden leashes to which eight men clung. Growling and roaring, the beast sprang from side to side in an effort to seize a keeper or lay hold upon one of the warriors or nobles that lined the way; so that it was all that four stalwart men on either side of him could do to prevent his accomplishing his design.
A flaming-eyed devil, he came toward the chariot of Nemone, but he was still afar when Tarzan saw the tuft of white hair in the center of his mane between his ears. It was Belthar!
Nemone was eyeing the man at her side as a cat might eye a mouse, but though the lion was close now she saw no change in the expression on Tarzan's face. "Do you not recognize him?" she demanded.