What they saw was a straight-sided pit, some thirty-five feet in depth. From top to bottom the walls were lined with tiny, ruby-colored electric bulbs. At the very bottom sat a squat gigantic thing.
With shoulders and head thrown back, the face of it glared up at them. The mouth distended to an opening of some six feet across, was lined with sharp steel spikes, slanting upward. The tongue was a keen, curved edge of steel. In its taloned hands the monster held two spears upright. A tail, also spiked, reared itself at one side, and the narrow forehead bore two needle-pointed horns of steel.
So the space at the bottom of the Pit was filled. Anything falling there must of necessity be impaled-if not fatally, so much the worse for the thing.
Trenmore growled in his throat.
"For sure," said he at last, "you murderers have gone to needless trouble! Why do you not cut our throats with your own hands? The deed would fit your natures!"
Virtue and Mercy only smiled complacently.
"Sorry you aren't amused," drawled the latter gentleman. "This little joke was not invented for your special benefit. Do you know who that is down there?"
"The statue of the devil you worship!" hazarded Trenmore viciously.
"Oh, no indeed! Quite the contrary. The statue of the devil you worship, my bellicose friend. That is the God of War, and as he can no longer stride loose about the world, we have made it convenient for his devotees to drop in on him. In other words, break the Peace of Penn, and you'll get more of war than you like. 'Sic semper tyrannis!' Any man who assaults another is a tyrant by intent, at least, so down you go."
"It was your police who attacked me!" accused Trenmore hotly.
Mercy's brows lifted.
"Was it? I had rather forgotten. That does spoil my parable, eh? But we shan't let it interfere with your invaluable opportunity to worship the God of War."
"Do you actually throw people-living people-into that vile trap?" Drayton's voice was incredulous. So theatrical, so tawdry seemed this Pit of theirs: like a stage dragon at which one may shudder, but not sincerely.
"We most assuredly do," smiled Virtue. He continued speaking, but his words were drowned and rendered indistinguishable by a great rattling roar, which seemed to rise from the open Pit itself. The prisoners instinctively sprang back from the edge.
There was nothing vocal in the noise, but if a bronze demon like that below should start into hungry life, just such a mechanical, reverberating roar might issue from its resounding throat.
The sound died away. "What was that?" demanded Trenmore sharply.
Mercy laughed.
"The subway, of course. The trains pass under the Temple foundations. You are the most curiously ignorant crooks that were ever brought in here. Where have you been living?"
Virtue glanced at his watch. "Mercy, if you are interested in their histories, would you mind obtaining them from the young lady later on? I'm due at a banquet in half an hour and I'm not dressed."
"Go ahead," shrugged Mercy. "We can finish without you."
Frowning, the judge shook his head. "His Supremity demands regularity in these affairs, and you know very well that the presence of the condemning judge is required here." Then he added in a lower tone, which nevertheless carried across the Pit, "I tell you frankly, Mercy, that he didn't like that business last week. You are growing too careless of his opinion, my dear fellow."
"Oh, he's an old-Hello; there comes Lovely. Now we shall have to hold the execution till she has looked the prisoners over. If we don't, she'll be deeply offended."
"A lot I care," muttered Virtue. Nevertheless, he lowered his hand, raised as if in direction to the guard.
A woman was approaching from the doorway beyond the open Pit. Tall, slender, a striking blonde in hair and complexion, she was dressed in an evening gown of soft, droopy lines, sea-green and deeply slitted to show slender limbs clad in pale gold.
At first glance and at a distance, Drayton fancied that "Lovely" well deserved her name. But as she drew near two facts became painfully apparent. The color in her cheeks was not the kind limited by nature, and her golden hair, waved back under a jade-green net, was of that suspicious straw gold, easily bought but very seldom grown. Her features, however, were regular and clean-cut, and her eyes really beautiful. They were large, well-shaped, and almost the very green of her gown.
Smiling sweetly upon Mr. Virtue, the lady extended her hand to Mr. Mercy, and afterward swept the prisoners across the Pit with a cold, indifferent gaze. When it rested upon Trenmore, however, her expression changed. A sudden light leaped into the sea-green eyes. The pupils expanded darkly.
"What a perfectly gorgeous giant, Virty!" she exclaimed, turning to the judge. "Where on earth did you get him? Surely, you were not about to waste that on the Pit?"
"Why not?" His Honor bestowed another covert, annoyed glance upon his watch.
"He has already beaten up four of our blue boys," laughed Mercy.
"Indeed? How so?"
Mercy related the incident briefly, giving Trenmore full credit and even exaggerating his feats for narrative effect. The lady laughed, a silvery peal of light-hearted merriment.
"And you meant to throw all that away in the Pit! How extravagant you boys are. It's fortunate I came out here. Now, what I should like to know is this. Why hasn't at least that one," she pointed at Trenmore, "taken condemned right and entered for the contests day after to-morrow? Why didn't you, Number-Number, whatever your number may be?"
Trenmore eyed her, frowning.
"Madam, I can't so much as guess at your meaning. If there's some way out of this murderous business for my sister, my friend and myself, we'd take it more than kindly if you'll explain."
"Lovely," Virtue protested, snapping shut his watch, "I really must leave here immediately."
"Just a minute," she flung him, and called across to Trenmore. "You must know the laws!"
Believing that their fate hung in a delicate balance, Drayton intervened.
"We are strangers here. They haven't allowed us to speak or defend ourselves, but we certainly do not understand the laws, and we have not offended intentionally."
"Strangers! Strangers in Philadelphia?"
"Certainly. This gentleman only recently arrived from Ireland; his sister has spent the last few years in the West, and I myself am from Cincinnati."
The woman shook her head, looking more puzzled than before.
"Those names mean nothing. If you are really from outside the boundaries, how did you get in?"
Drayton hesitated. A diplomatic answer to that was, under the circumstances, difficult. Before he could frame a sentence sufficiently noncommittal, a new figure had thrust its way through the police guard and walked to the woman's side.
He was a man of about thirty-five, sharp-featured, cunning-eyed, and with a thin-lipped mouth which closed tight as a trap. Unlike Virtue and Mercy, the newcomer was attired in full evening dress. A light cloak, black and lined with flame-colored silk, was flung across one arm.
Without troubling to salute her companions, and without the slightest evidence of interest in the meaning of the scene in general, he addressed the green-clad woman.
"Lovely," he demanded in barely repressed impatience, "are you intending to go out this evening or not? If you don't wish to dance, for heaven's sake, say so! I can take some one else."
She turned upon him a glance of indolent scorn.
"Do that, if you think best. All my life I've been looking for a full-grown man to share my responsibility under Penn Service. Now that I have found one, do you think I will let him be lost in the Pit?"
At this speech Mr. Virtue gave a sharp exclamation, and Mercy laughed outright.
"So that's what you're up to, Lovely! Cleverest, I'm sorry for you! Goodnight!"
The thin lips of "Cleverest" parted in an unpleasant smile.