Tharn shook his head. Any discussion, now, would be pointless. He must go on. At the far end of the room was a large unbarred opening—a possible avenue of escape.
Hesitating no longer he released the girl, pushed her aside and made for the window.
Alurna, confident now that this nocturnal prowler meant her no harm, remained standing where he had left her. While awaiting his next move, she fell to studying him from across the room.
He was the embodiment of physical perfection; certainly the most beautifully formed male she had ever seen before. The smooth brown body bespoke of suppleness and the nimble agility of a cat, despite banded layers of iron muscles rippling beneath an unclouded skin.
The face, with its frank, grave eyes, impressed her as being both handsome and highly intelligent. There was an air of majestic nobility in his posture and the poise of his well-shaped head that would have aroused envy in the heart of any Sepharian.
A muffled knocking at the door startled her; but before she could respond, the Cro-Magnon slipped past her to lower the bar into place.
Again came the soft, insistent knock. Tharn stepped close beside the princess, pointed at the door and then to her lips, at the same time pressing the point of his knife gently against her side. The meaning was clear; she must send away, unwarned, whoever was outside.
"Who is there?" she called.
"Forgive me for disturbing you, princess," came a muffled reply, "but the man you warned us of is somewhere near here. Have you seen or heard anything more of him?"
Alurna paused for a second, weighing her chances. But the cave-man's cold gaze conquered the temptation.