“Surely thou wilt not seek thine own destruction, and take thy Secret with thee?” I gasped.
He remained silent; he did not even turn towards the man who had struck the fatal blow. The flames were roaring, and the heat had become so intense that the perspiration in big drops rolled from my face.
“Speak!” I shrieked. “For the sake of the woman whose young life dependeth upon thy word! Be merciful unto her! Tell me what to do!”
But, with a hoarse, defiant laugh, he folded his arms, saying, “I refuse!”
“By Heaven!” I burst out, in sudden anger, “this is no time for dallying words. If thou wilt not, then may the curse of the Daughter of the Sun, whose life thou sacrificest, hang upon thy neck, heavy as a millstone, and may it drag thee down to the place that is prepared for evil doers.”
The effect of my words was electrical.
“No! No!” he cried, evidently in as deadly fear of the imprecations of Zoraida as the Ennitra had been. “No! I—I have reconsidered!” he gasped.
As the words left his lips, I saw that the flames had ignited the flowing robes of the man from the tomb, and though he rushed about in paroxysms of intense pain, and at last fell, unconscious, he uttered not a sound! Swiftly, indeed, was he punished for his crime.
“Tell me, quickly!” I cried aloud. “In another moment we shall both be lost. Fly! Let me assist thee. Even now we can escape!” and as I spoke, a tongue of fire singed my hair and burned my eyebrows.
“No!” he shrieked, his voice sounding shrill above the dull roar, as his eyes rolled wildly. Undoubtedly a terrible madness had seized him, and so vigorously did he threaten, rave, and curse, that I felt half inclined to make a desperate dash for life through the door by which we had entered.