“A captive!” gasped Robert, clutching at his heart. His Zola a prisoner of that ogre, Kharnov!
“Here is an ultimatum just received from the beast,” resumed Hakon, dully, handing Robert a folded document.
Robert unfolded the paper.
“Your daughter will come to no harm provided you capitulate by noon tomorrow,” it read in effect.
“The dog!” cried Robert. “How did he contrive to get her into his possession?”
“This was found in her room,” said Hakon, handing him a small crumpled piece of paper.
To his surprize it had his name at the bottom, although it was written in Martian. Zola did not understand his own tongue. On the paper was written: “I am a prisoner. Unless you come to intercede for me with the emperor, I shall be put to death at dawn. Robert.”
Surely love is blind! Else she would have known that he could not have written such a wantonly selfish plea.
“This is a false message, of course,” said Robert, wondering whether Hakon believed him the author of such a note.
“I know it, my boy.”