Now she was talking again, hurriedly arguing a case to win his life.
"It is not necessary to kill this man, my parent. It would be folly to do so. Think! On all this world ... in all this universe ... there are few men worthy of the name of man! Your court is a melange of smirking nincompoops and weaklings. Who amongst them can match in strength and vigor the spirit of Dirk Morris? Which can compare with him in audacity and daring?"
"That," responded her father darkly, "is why he must die. I cannot allow so dangerous a foe to live—"
"No? Have you forgotten the medical science of which your attendants are capable? Think, my father ... were it not better to make slight alterations in this man's brain, converting him to a true and faithful servant, than to destroy forever the bravery in his heart?"
The words struck home. Garroway frowned thoughtfully.
"It is true," he mused. "A slight operation ... a period in the Mental Clinic to erase from his brain-passage all thoughts of rebellion ... would make him a new man. But it is too great a chance. Were anything to go wrong—"
The Princess Lenore gazed at him scornfully.
"I see. Very well, then—" With slow, deliberate movements she reached up, stripped from her raven hair the glittering imperial emblem which designated her a member of the Family Royal—"if such must be your decision, so be it? But I ... I shall no longer confess myself a Garroway. If the word of the Emperor is so lightly to be given...."
And this time she was triumphant. Her scorn hit the Overlord in his one most vulnerable spot ... his colossal vanity. His dark eyes flamed with petulance. He snarled, "Oh, let be! No man shall say the Overlord retracted a pledge. If you must have this man—" He turned to Morris—"Well, what say you, rebel? Are you too proud to buy your life at the expense of rebellion? Or will you accept life at the price of a new existence of loyalty ... to me?"