CHAPTER VIII
Unknown Friend
"Sit down." Tarrano motioned us to feather hassocks and stretched himself indolently upon our pillowed divan. With an elbow and hand supporting his head he regarded us with his sombre black eyes, his face impassive, an inscrutable smile playing about his thin lips.
"I wish to speak with you three. The Lady Elza——" His glance went to her briefly, then to Georg. "She has told you, perhaps, what I had to say to her?"
"Yes," said Georg shortly.
Elza had indeed told us. And with sinking heart I had listened, for it did not seem to me that any maiden could resist so dominant a man as this. But I had made no comment, nor had Georg. Elza had seemed unwilling to discuss it, had flushed when her brother's eyes had keenly searched her face.
And she flushed now, but Tarrano dismissed the subject with a gesture. "That—is between her and me.... You have been following the general news, I assume? I provided you with it." He rolled a little cylinder of the arrant-leaf, and lighted it.
"Yes," said Georg.
Georg was waiting for our captor to lay his cards before us. Tarrano knew it; his smile broadened. "I shall not mince words, Georg Brende. Between men, that is not necessary. And we are isolated here—no one beyond Venia can listen. As you know, I am already Master of Venus. In Mars—that will shortly come. They will hand themselves over to me—or I shall conquer them." He shrugged. "It is quite immaterial." He added contemptuously: "People are fools—almost everyone—it is no great feat to dominate them."
"You'll find our Earth leaders are not fools," Georg said quietly.