"Where is the girl?" demanded God.
"She was not there, My Lord. She is gone, and the man too."
"Gone! But that is impossible."
"The room is empty."
"And the doors! Had they been unlocked—either of them?"
"No, My Lord; they were both locked," replied the under priest.
The gorilla god went suddenly silent. For a few moments he remained in thought; then he spoke in very low tones to his two companions.
Tarzan and the girl watched them from their place of concealment in the tower. The ape-man was restless. He wished that they would go away so that he could search for some avenue of escape from the castle. Alone, he might have faced them and relied on his strength and agility to win his freedom; but he could not hope to make good the escape of the girl and himself both in the face of their ignorance of a way out of the castle and the numbers which he was sure the gorilla god could call to his assistance in case of need.
He saw the priest turn and hurry away. The other two walked a short distance from the tower, turned so that they faced it, leaned against the parapet, and continued their conversation; though now Tarzan could no longer overhear their exact words. The position of the two was such that the fugitives could not have left the tower without being seen by them.
The ape-man became apprehensive. The abnormal sensibility of the hunted beast warned him of impending danger; but he did not know where to look for it, nor in what form to expect it.