'Of whom did this man speak?' the taller demanded.
'Of a wandering stranger who did me an injury,' panted Publio.
'You lie,' said the Khitan calmly. 'He spoke of the king of Aquilonia. I read it in your expression. Sit upon that divan and do not move or speak. I will remain with you while my three companions go search for the body.'
So Publio sat and shook with terror of the silent, inscrutable figure which watched him, until the three Khitans filed back into the room, with the news that Conan's body did not lie upon the sands. Publio did not know whether to be glad or sorry.
'We found the spot where the fight was fought,' they said. 'Blood was on the sand. But the king was gone.'
The fourth Khitan drew imaginary symbols upon the carpet with his staff, which glistened scalily in the lamplight.
'Did you read naught from the sands?' he asked.
'Aye,' they answered. 'The king lives, and he has gone southward in a ship.'
The tall Khitan lifted his head and gazed at Publio, so that the merchant broke into a profuse sweat.
'What do you wish of me?' he stuttered.