There followed a period of silence. Thus far, Meltor had carried out his plan to the letter. But now, faced with the unpleasant part of his task, he was beginning to feel decidedly qualmish.
How truly beautiful she was! Not the empty loveliness of perfect features alone; there was personality and fire and a keen, alert mind mirrored in those grave brown eyes and the sweet curve of sensitive lips.
And then he thought of Alurna and the secret she held, and the memory put an abrupt end to growing misgivings.
Dylara, who was trying to fathom what lay behind the man's cold expressionless face, broke the silence.
"Why have you brought me here?"
Meltor hesitated. Why not tell her? Perhaps the knowledge would drive her into making a second attempt to escape. And then....
"I suppose there is no reason why you should not be told," he said slowly. "It will make no difference—now.
"You have made an enemy in Sephar. How it happened, I do not know—nor does it matter. It is enough that you are in the way—and must die."
The calm emotionless statement brought no sense of shock to Dylara. She had known what was coming—known it as surely as though he had said the words an hour ago. In a curiously detached way she was conscious of the brilliant sunlight streaming through the windows; of the strident voices of many birds in the nearby jungle; of the slow-moving wind among many leaves....
"I do not want to kill you," Meltor continued. "You are too young to die. I would like to let you go—to leave you in the forest to go back to the caves you call home."