"Too bad," he said. Then his gaze swung to Argo.
"Master——"
"Silence!"
There was on Tarrano's face and in his voice an expression, a tone quite new to me. A quiet grimness. More than that. A quality of deadliness—of inexorable deadliness which could well have chilled the stoutest heart that fronted it.
"Come here, Argo." Tarrano stood quite motionless. "Argo!"
"Master! Master, you——"
"Come!"
Argo was on the floor. Shaking with terror—for he, probably better than any of us, understood what was coming—dragged himself to Tarrano's feet.
"Stand up!"
"Master, have mercy——"