The Hour of the Dragon

by Robert E. Howard

A cautious knock sounded at the door.

'That's Arideus,' grunted Tarascus. 'Let him in.'

The saturnine squire entered, his eyes blazing with suppressed excitement.

'How, Arideus?' exclaimed Tarascus. 'Have you found the man who attacked me?'

'You did not see him, my lord?' asked Arideus, as one who would assure himself of a fact he already knows to exist. 'You did not recognize him?'

'No. It happened so quick, and the candle was out—all I could think of was that it was some devil loosed on me by Xaltotun's magic——'

'The Pythonian sleeps in his barred and bolted room. But I have been in the pits.' Arideus twitched his lean shoulders excitedly.

'Well, speak, man!' exclaimed Tarascus impatiently. 'What did you find there?'

'An empty dungeon,' whispered the squire. 'The corpse of the great ape!'

'What?' Tarascus started upright, and blood gushed from his opened wound.