The voice of the woman he loved called him.

It came to him through the distant roar of the lions as clear as when, with one cry of "Harrik!" she had fallen beneath the lion's paw.

He knew now why he had kept the great beast until this hour, though tempted again and again to slay him.
Like one in a dream, he drew a dagger from the cushions where he sat, and rose to his feet.

Leaving the room and passing dark groups of waiting slaves, he travelled empty chambers and long corridors, the voices of the lions growing nearer and nearer.

He sped faster now, and presently came to two great doors, on which he knocked thrice.