"He did know ... because I told him," she said, staring at me with magnificent audacity.
"And," I murmured, "he—he believed it?"
"With the help of my explanation, he recognized your shriek. If he had not realized that you were his murderer, the affair would not have interested me," she finished with a scornful little smile.
Four steps, I said, separated me from Antinea. I sprang forward. But, before I reached her, I was struck to the floor.
King Hiram had leapt at my throat.
At the same moment I heard the calm, haughty voice of Antinea:
"Call the men," she commanded.
A second later I was released from the leopard's clutch. The six white Tuareg had surrounded me and were trying to bind me.
I am fairly strong and quick. I was on my feet in a second. One of my enemies lay on the floor, ten feet away, felled by a well-placed blow on the jaw. Another was gasping under my knee. That was the last time I saw Antinea. She stood erect, both hands resting on her ebony scepter, watching the struggle with a smile of contemptuous interest.
Suddenly I gave a loud cry and loosed the hold I had on my victim. A cracking in my left arm: one of the Tuareg had seized it and twisted until my shoulder was dislocated.