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 VOL. V, No. 1 CONTENTS JANUARY, 1931

 COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSO _Painted in Water-Colors from a Scene in "The Gate to Xoran. "_

 THE DARK SIDE OF ANTRI SEWELL PEASLEE WRIGHT 9 _Commander John Hanson Relates an Interplanetary Adventure Illustrating the Splendid Service Spirit of the Men of the Special Patrol. _

 THE SUNKEN EMPIRE H. THOMPSON RICH 24 _Concerning the Strange Adventures of Professor Stevens with the Antillians on the Floor of the Mysterious Sargasso Sea. _

 THE GATE TO XORAN HAL K. WELLS 46 _A Strange Man of Metal Comes to Earth on a Dreadful Mission. _

 THE EYE OF ALLAH C. D. WILLARD 58 _On the Fatal Seventh of September a Certain Secret Service Man Sat in the President's Chair and--Looked Back into the Eye of Allah. _

 THE FIFTH-DIMENSION CATAPULT MURRAY LEINSTER 72 _The Story of Tommy Reames' Extraordinary Rescue of Professor Denham and his Daughter--Marooned in the Fifth Dimension. _ (A Complete Novelette. )

 THE PIRATE PLANET CHARLES W. DIFFIN 109 _Two Fighting Yankees--War-Torn Earth's Sole Representatives on Venus--Set Out to Spike the Greatest Gun of All Time. _ (Part Three of a Four-Part Novel. )

 THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 132 _A Meeting Place for Readers of_ ASTOUNDING STORIES. 

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[Illustration: "_Behold one of those who live in the darkness. _"]

The Dark Side of Antri

_By Sewell Peaslee Wright_

 Commander John Hanson relates an interplanetary adventure illustrating the splendid Service spirit of the men of the Special Patrol. 

An officer of the Special Patrol Service dropped in to see me theother day. He was a young fellow, very sure of himself, and verykindly towards an old man. 

He was doing a monograph, he said, for his own amusement, upon theearly forms of our present offensive and defensive weapons. Could Itell him about the first Deuber spheres and the earlier disintegratorrays and the crude atomic bombs we tried back when I first entered theService?

I could, of course. And I did. But a man's memory does not improve inthe course of a century of Earth years. Our scientists have not beenable to keep a man's brain as fresh as his body, despite all theirvaunted progress. There is a lot these deep thinkers, in their greatlaboratories, don't know. The whole universe gives them the credit forwhat's been done, yet the men of action who carried out the ideas--butI'm getting away from my pert young officer. 

He listened to me with interest and toleration. Now and then he helpedme out, when my memory failed me on some little detail. He seemed tohave a very fair theoretical knowledge of the subject. 

"It seems impossible, " he commented, when we had gone over the groundhe had outlined, "that the Service could have done its work with suchcrude and undeveloped weapons, does it not?" He smiled in a superiorsort of way, as though to imply we had probably done the best wecould, under the circumstances. 

 * * * * *

I suppose I should not have permitted his attitude to irritate me, butI am an old man, and my life has not been an easy one. 

"Youngster, " I said--like many old people, I prefer spokenconversation--"back in those days the Service was handicapped in everyway. We lacked weapons, we lacked instruments, we lacked popularsupport, and backing. But we had men, in those days, who did theirwork with the tools that were at hand. And we did it well. "

"Yes, sir!" the youngster said hastily--after all, a retired commanderin the Special Patrol Service does rate a certain amount of respect, even from these perky youngsters--"I know that, sir. It was theefforts of men like yourself who gave us the proud traditions we haveto-day. "

"Well, that's hardly true, " I corrected him. "I'm not quite so old asthat. We had a fine set of traditions when I entered the Service, son. But we did our share to carry them on, I'll grant you that. "

"'Nothing Less than Complete Success, '" quoted the lad almostreverently, giving the ancient motto of our service. "That is a finetradition for a body of men to aspire to, sir. "

"True. True. " The ring in the boy's voice brought memories flocking. It was a proud motto; as old as I am, the words bring a thrill evennow, a thrill comparable only with that which comes from seeing oldEarth swell up out of the darkness of space after days of outeremptiness. Old Earth, with her wispy white clouds and her broad seas--Oh, I know I'm provincial, but that is another thing that must beforgiven an old man. 

"I imagine, sir, " said the young officer, "that you could tell many astrange story of the Service, and the sacrifices men have made to keepthat motto the proud boast it is to-day. "

"Yes, " I told him. "I could do that. I have done so. That is myoccupation, now that I have been retired from active service. I--"

"You are a historian?" he broke in eagerly. 

 * * * * *

I forgave him the interruption. I can still remember my own ratherimpetuous youth. 

"Do I look like a historian?" I think I smiled as I asked him thequestion, and held out my hands to him. Big brown hands they are, hardened with work, stained and drawn from old acid burns, and thebite of blue electric fire. In my day we worked with crude toolsindeed; tools that left their mark upon the workman. 

"No. But--"

I waved the explanation aside. 

"Historians deal with facts, with accomplishments, with dates andplaces and the names of great men. I write--what little I do write--ofmen and high adventures, so that in this time of softness and easyliving some few who may read my scribblings may live with me thosedays when the worlds of the universe were strange to each other, andthere were many new things to be found and marveled at. "

"And I'll venture, sir, that you find much enjoyment in the work, "commented the youngster with a degree of perception with which I hadnot credited him. 

"True. As I write, forgotten faces peer at me through the mists of theyears, and strong, friendly voices call to me from out of thepast. .. . "

"It must be wonderful to live the old adventures through again, " saidthe young officer hastily. Youth is always afraid of sentiment in oldpeople. Why this should be, I do not know. But it is so. 

The lad--I wish I had made a note of his name; I predict a future forhim in the Service--left me alone, then, with the thoughts he hadstirred up in my mind. 

 * * * * *

Old faces . .. Old voices. Old scenes, too. 

Strange worlds, strange peoples. A hundred, a thousand differenttongues. Men that came only to my knee, and men that towered ten feetabove my head. Creatures--possessed of all the attributes of menexcept physical form--that belonged only in the nightmare realms ofsleep. 

An old man's most treasured possessions: his memories. A face drewclose out of the flocking recollections; the face of a man I had knownand loved more than a brother so many years--dear God, how manyyears--ago. 

Anderson Croy. Search all the voluminous records of the beardedhistorians, and you will not find his name. No great figure of historywas this friend of mine; just an obscure officer on an obscure ship ofthe Special Patrol Service. 

And yet there is a people who owe to him their very existence. 

I wonder if they have forgotten him? It would not surprise me. 

The memory of the universe is not a reliable thing. 

 * * * * *

Anderson Croy was, like most of the officer personnel of the SpecialPatrol Service, a native of Earth. 

They had tried to make a stoop-shouldered dabbler in formulas out ofhim, but he was not the stuff from which good scientists are moulded. He was young, when I first knew him, and strong; he had mild blue eyesand a quick smile. And he had a fine, steely courage that a man couldlove. 

I was in command, then, of the _Ertak_, my second ship. I InheritedAnderson Croy with the ship, and I liked him from the first time Ilaid eyes upon him. 

As I recall it, we worked together on the _Ertak_ for nearly twoyears, Earth time. We went through some tight places together. Iremember our experience, shortly after I took over the _Ertak_, on themonstrous planet Callor, whose tiny, gentle people were attacked bystrange, vapid Things that come down upon them from the fastness ofthe polar cap, and--

But I wander from the story I wish to tell here. An old man's mind isa weak and weary thing that totters and weaves from side to side; likea worn-out ship, it is hard to keep on a straight course. 

We were out on one of those long, monotonous patrols, skirting theouter boundaries of the known universe, that were, at that time, before the building of all the many stations we have to-day a dreadedpart of the Special Patrol Service routine. 

Not once had we landed to stretch our legs. Slowing up to atmosphericspeed took time, and we were on a schedule that allowed for no wasteof even minutes. We approached the various worlds only close enough toreport, and to receive an assurance that all was well. A dog's life, but part of the game. 

 * * * * *

My log showed nearly a hundred "All's well" reports, as I remember it, when we slid up to Antri, which was, so far as size is concerned, oneof our smallest ports o' call. 

Antri, I might add, for the benefit of those who have forgotten theirmaps of the universe, is a satellite of A-411, which, in turn, is oneof the largest bodies of the universe, and both uninhabited anduninhabitable. Antri is somewhat larger than the moon, Earth'ssatellite, and considerably farther from its controlling body. 

"Report our presence, Mr. Croy, " I ordered wearily. "And please askMr. Correy to keep a sharp watch on the attraction meter. " These hugebodies such as A-411 are not pleasant companions at space speeds. Afew minute's trouble--space ships gave trouble, in those days--and youmelted like a drop of solder when you struck the atmospheric belt. 

"Yes, sir!" There never was a crisper young officer than Croy. 

I bent over my tables, working out our position and charting ourcourse for the next period. In a few seconds Croy was back, his blueeyes gleaming. 

"Sir, an emergency is reported on Antri. We are to make all possiblespeed, to Oreo, their governing city. I gather that it is veryimportant. "

"Very well, Mr. Croy. " I can't say the news was unwelcome. Monotonykills young men. "Have the disintegrator ray generators inspected andtested. Turn out the watch below in such time that we may have allhands on duty when we arrive. If there is an emergency, we shall beprepared for it. I shall be with Mr. Correy in the navigating room; ifthere are any further communications, relay them to me there. "

 * * * * *

I hurried up to the navigating room, and gave Correy his orders. 

"Do not reduce speed until it is absolutely necessary, " I concluded. "We have an emergency call from Antri, and minutes may be important. How long do you make it to Oreo?"

"About an hour to the atmosphere; say an hour more to set down in thecity. I believe that's about right, sir. "

I nodded, frowning at the twin charts, with their softly glowinglights, and turned to the television disc, picking up Antri withoutdifficulty. 

Of course, back in those days we had the huge and cumbersome discs, their faces shielded by a hood, that would be suitable only for museumpieces now. But they did their work very well, and I searched Antricarefully, at varying ranges, for any sign of disturbances. I foundnone. 

The dark portion, of course, I could not penetrate. Antri has oneportion of its face that is turned forever from its sun, and one halfthat is bathed in perpetual light. The long twilight zone wasuninhabited, for the people of Antri are a sun-loving race, and theircities and villages appeared only in the bright areas of perpetualsunlight. 

Just as we reduced to atmospheric speed, Croy sent up a message

"The Governing Council sends word that we are to set down on theplatform atop the Hall of Government, the large, square white buildingin the center of the city. They say we will have no difficulty inlocating it. "

I thanked him and ordered him to stand by for further messages, ifany, and picked up the far-flung city of Oreo in my television disc. 

 * * * * *

There was no mistaking the building Croy had mentioned. It stood outfrom the city around it, cool and white, its mighty columns glisteninglike crystal in the sun. I could even make out the landing platform, slightly elevated above the roof on spidery arches of silvery metal. 

We sped straight for the city at just a fraction of space speed, butthe hand of the surface temperature gauge crept slowly toward the redline that marked the dangerous incandescent point. I saw that Correy, like the good navigating officer he was, was watching the gauge asclosely as myself, and hence said nothing. We both knew that theAntrians would not have sent a call for help to a ship of the SpecialPatrol Service if there had not been a real emergency. 

Correy had made a good guess in saying that it would take about anhour, after entering the gaseous envelope of Antri, to reach ourdestination. It was just a few minutes--Earth time, of course--lessthan that when we settled gently onto the landing platform. 

A group of six or seven Antrians, dignified old men, wearing theshort, loosely belted white robes that we found were their universalcostume, were waiting for us at the exit of the _Ertak_, whose sleek, smooth sides were glowing dull red. 

"You have hastened, and that is well, sirs, " said the spokesman of thecommittee. "You find Antri in dire need. " He spoke in the universallanguage, and spoke it softly and perfectly. "But you will pardon mefor greeting you with that which is, of necessity, uppermost in mymind, and in the minds of these, my companions. 

"Permit me to welcome you to Antri, and to introduce those who extendthose greetings. " Rapidly, he ran through a list of names, and each ofthe men bowed gravely in acknowledgment of our greetings. I have neverobserved a more courteous nor a more courtly people than the Antrians;their manners are as beautiful as their faces. 

Last of all, their spokesman introduced himself. Bori Tulber, he wascalled, and he had the honor of being master of the Council--the chiefexecutive of Antri. 

 * * * * *

When the introductions had been completed, the committee led ourlittle party to a small, cylindrical elevator which dropped us, swiftly and silently, on a cushion of air, to the street level of thegreat building. Across a wide, gleaming corridor our conductors ledus, and stood aside before a massive portal through which ten menmight have walked abreast. 

We found ourselves in a great chamber with a vaulted ceiling ofbright, gleaming metal. At the far end of the room was an elevatedrostrum, flanked on either side by huge, intricate masses of statuary, of some creamy, translucent stone that glowed as with some innerlight. Semicircular rows of seats, each with its carved desk, surmounted by numerous electrical controls, occupied all the floorspace. None of the seats was occupied. 

"We have excused the Council from our preliminary deliberations, "explained Bori Tulber, "because such a large body is unwieldy. Mycompanions and myself represent the executive heads of the variousdepartments of the Council, and we are empowered to act. " He led usthrough the great council chamber, and into an anteroom, beautifullydecorated, and furnished with exceedingly comfortable chairs. 

"Be seated, sirs, " the Master of the Council suggested. We obeyedsilently, and Bori Tulber stood before, gazing thoughtfully intospace. 

 * * * * *

"I do not know just where to begin, " he said slowly. "You men inuniform know, I presume, but little of this world of ours. I presume Ihad best begin far back. 

"Since you are navigators of space, undoubtedly, you are acquaintedwith the fact that Antri is a world divided into two parts; one ofperpetual night, and the other of perpetual day, due to the fact thatAntri revolves but once upon its axis during the course of its circuitof its sun, thus presenting always the same face to our luminary. 

"We have no day and night, such as obtain on other spheres. There areno set hours for working nor for sleeping nor for pleasure. Themeasure of a man's work is the measure of his ambition, or hisstrength, or his desire. It is so also with his sleep and with hispleasures. It is--it has been--a very pleasant arrangement. 

"Ours is a fertile country, and our people live very long and veryhappily with little effort. We have believed that ours was the nearestof all the worlds to the ideal; that nothing could disturb the peaceand happiness of our people. We were mistaken. 

 * * * * *

"There is a dark side to Antri. A side upon which the sun never hasshone. A dismal place of gloom, which is like the night upon otherworlds. 

"No Antrian has, to our knowledge, ever penetrated this part of Antri, and lived to tell of his experience. We do not even till the landclose to the twilight zone. Why should we, when we have so much fineland upon which the sun shines bright and fair always, save for thetwo brief seasons of rain?

"We have never given thought to what might be on the dark face ofAntri. Darkness and night are things unknown to us; we know of themonly from the knowledge which has come to us from other worlds. Andnow--now we have been brought face to face with a terrible dangerwhich comes to us from that other side of this sphere. 

"A people have grown there. A terrible people that I shall not try todescribe to you. They threaten us with slavery, with extinction. Fourara ago (the Antrians have their own system of reckoning time, just aswe have on Earth, instead of using the universal system, based uponthe enaro. An ara corresponds to about fifty hours, Earth time. ) wedid not know that such a people existed. Now their shadow is upon allour beautifully sunny country, and unless you can aid us, before otherhelp can reach us, I am convinced that Antri is doomed!"

 * * * * *

For a moment not one of us spoke. We sat there, staring at the old manwho had just ceased speaking. 

Only a man ripened and seasoned with the passing of years could havestood there before us and uttered, so quietly and solemnly, words suchas had just come from his lips. Only in his eyes could we catch aglimpse of the torment which gripped his soul. 

"Sir, " I said, and have never felt younger than at that moment, when Itried to frame some assurance to this splendid old man who had turnedto me and my youthful crew for succor, "we shall do what it lieswithin our power to do. But tell us more of this danger whichthreatens. 

"I am no man of science, and yet I cannot see how men could live in aland never reached by the sun. There would be no heat, no vegetation. Is that not so?"

"Would that it were!" replied the Master of the Council, bitterly. "What you say would be indeed the truth, were it not for the greatriver and seas of our sunny Antri, which bear their heated waters tothis dark portion of our world, and make it habitable. 

"And as for this danger, there is little to be said. At some time, menof our country, men who fish, or venture upon the water in commerce, have been borne, all unwillingly, across the shadowy twilight zone andinto the land of darkness. They did not come back, but they were foundthere and despoiled of their menores. 

"Somehow, these creatures who dwell in darkness determined the use ofthe menore, and now that they have resolved that they shall rule allthis sphere, they have been able to make their threat clear to us. Perhaps"--and Bori Tulber smiled faintly and terribly--"you would liketo have that message direct from its bearer?"

 * * * * *

"Is that possible, sir?" I asked eagerly, glancing around the room. "How--"

"Come with me, " said the Master of the Council gently. "Alone--for toomany near him excites this terrible messenger. You have your menore?"

"No. I had not thought there would be need of it. " The menores ofthose days, it should be remembered, were heavy, cumbersome circletsthat were worn upon the head like a sort of crown, and one did not goso equipped unless in real need of the device. To-day, of course, yourmenores are but jeweled trinkets that convey thought a score of timesmore effectively, and weigh but a tenth as much. 

"It is a lack easily remedied. " Bori Tulber excused himself with alittle bow and hurried out into the great council chamber, to appearagain in a moment with a menore in either hand. 

"Now, if your companions and mine will excuse us for a moment. .. . " Hesmiled around the seated group apologetically. There was a murmur ofassent, and the old man opened a door in the other side of the room. 

"It is not far, " he said. "I will go first, and show you the way. "

 * * * * *

He led me quickly down a long, narrow corridor to a pair of steepstairs that circled far down into the very foundation of the building. The walls of the corridor and the stairs were without windows, butwere as bright as noonday from the ethon tubes which were set intoboth ceiling and walls. 

Silently we circled our way down the spiral stairs, and silently theMaster of the Council paused before a door at the bottom--a door ofdull red metal. 

"This is the keeping place of those who come before the Councilcharged with wrong doing, " explained Bori Tulber. His fingers restedupon and pressed certain of a ring of small white buttons in the faceof the door, and it opened swiftly and noiselessly. We entered, andthe door closed behind us with a soft thud. 

"Behold one of those who live in the darkness, " said the Master of theCouncil grimly. "Do not put on the menore until you have a grip uponyourself: I would not have him know how greatly he disturbs us. "

I nodded, dumbly, holding the heavy menore dangling in my hand. 

I have said that I have beheld strange worlds and strange people in mylife, and it is true that I have. I have seen the headless people ofthat red world Iralo, the ant people, the dragon-fly people, theterrible carnivorous trees of L-472, and the pointed heads of a peoplewho live upon a world which may not be named. But I have still to seea more terrible creature than that which lay before me now. 

 * * * * *

He--or it--was reclining upon the floor, for the reason that he couldnot have stood. No room save one with a vaulted ceiling such as thegreat council chamber, could offer room enough for this creature towalk erect. 

He was, roughly, a shade better than twice my height, yet I believe hewould have weighed but little more. You have seen rank weeds that havegrown up in the darkness to reach the sun; if you can imagine a manwho had done likewise, you can, perhaps, picture that which I sawbefore me. 

His legs at the thigh were no larger than my arm, and his arms werebut half the size of my wrist, and jointed twice instead of but once. He wore a careless garment of some dirty yellow, shaggy hide, and hisskin, revealed on feet and arms and face, was a terrible, bloodlesswhite; the dead white of a fish's belly. Maggot white. The white ofsomething that had never known the sun. 

The head was small and round, with features that were a caricature ofman's. His ears were huge, and had the power of movement, for theycocked forward as we entered the room. The nose was not prominentlyarched, but the nostrils were wide, and very thin, as was his mouth, which was faintly tinged with dusky blue, instead of healthy red. Atone time his eyes had been nearly round, and, in proportion, verylarge. Now they were but shadowy pockets, mercifully covered byshrunken, wrinkled lids that twitched but did not lift. 

 * * * * *

He moved as we entered, and from a reclining position, propped up onthe double elbows of one spidery arm, he changed to a sitting positionthat brought his head nearly to the ceiling. He smiled sickeningly, and a queer, sibilant whispering came from the bluish lips. 

"That is his way of talking, " explained Bori Tulber. "His eyes, youwill note, have been gouged out. They cannot stand the light; theyprepared their messenger carefully for his work, you'll see. "

He placed his menore upon his head, and motioned me to do likewise. The creature searched the floor with one white, leathery hand, andfinally located his menore, which he adjusted clumsily. 

"You will have to be very attentive, " explained my companion. "Heexpresses himself in terms of pictures only, of course, and his is nota highly developed mind. I shall try to get him to go over the entirestory for us again, if I can make him understand. Emanate nothingyourself; he is easily confused. "

I nodded silently, my eyes fixed with a sort of fascination upon thecreature from the darkness, and waited. 

 * * * * *

Back on the _Ertak_ again. I called all my officers together for aconference. 

"Gentlemen, " I said, "we are confronted with a problem of such gravitythat I doubt my ability to describe it clearly. 

"Briefly, this civilized, beautiful portion of Antri is menaced by aterrible fate. In the dark portion of this unhappy world there live apeople who have the lust of conquest in their hearts--and the means athand with which to wreck this world of perpetual sunlight. 

"I have the ultimatum of this people direct from their messenger. Theywant a terrible tribute in the form of slaves. These slaves would haveto live in perpetual darkness, and wait upon the whims of the mostmonstrous beings these eyes of mine have ever seen. And the number ofslaves demanded would--as nearly as I could gather, mean about a thirdof the entire population. Further tribute in the form of sufficientfood to support these slaves is also demanded. "

"But, in God's name, sir, " burst forth Croy, his eyes blazing, "bywhat means do they, propose to inforce their infamous demands?"

"By the power of darkness--and a terrible cataclysm. Their wisemen--and it would seem that some of them are not unversed inscience--have discovered a way to unbalance this world, so that theycan cause darkness to creep over this land that has never known it. And as darkness advances, these people of the sun will be utterlyhelpless before a race that loves darkness, and can see in it likecats. That, gentlemen, is that fate which confronts this world ofAntri!"

 * * * * *

There was a ghastly silence for a moment, and then Croy, alwaysimpetuous, spoke up again. 

"How do they propose to do this thing sir?", he asked hoarsely. 

"With devilish simplicity. They have a great canal dug nearly to thegreat polar cap of ice. Should they complete it, the hot waters oftheir seas will be liberated upon this vast ice field, and the warmwaters will melt it quickly. If you have not forgotten your lessons, gentlemen, you will remember, since most of you are of Earth, that ourscientists tell us our own world turned over in much this samefashion, from natural means, and established for itself new poles. Isthat not true?"

Grave, almost frightened nods travelled around the little semicircleof white, thoughtful faces. 

"And is there nothing, sir, that we can do?" asked Kincaide, my secondofficer, in an awed whisper. 

"That is the purpose of this conclave: to determine what may be done. We have our bombs and our rays, it is true, but what is the power ofthis one ship against the people of half a world? And such a people!"I shuddered, despite myself, at the memory of that grinning creaturein the cell far below the floor of the council chamber. "This city, and its thousands, we might save, it is true--but not the whole halfof this world. And that is the task the Council and its Master haveset before us. "

 * * * * *

"Would it be possible to frighten them?" asked Croy. "I gather thatthey are not an advanced race. Perhaps a show of power--the rays--theatomic pistol--bombs-- Call it strategy, sir, or just plain bluff. Itseems the only chance. "

"You have heard the suggestion, gentlemen, " I said. "Has anyone abetter?"

"How does Mr. Croy plan to frighten these people of the darkness?"asked Kincaide, who was always practical. 

"By going to their country, in this ship, and then letting events taketheir course, " replied Croy promptly. "Details will have to be settledon the spot, as I see it. "

"I believe Mr. Croy is right, " I decided. "The messenger of thesepeople must be returned to his own kind; the sooner the better. He hasgiven me a mental map of his country; I believe that it will bepossible for me to locate the principal city, in which his rulerlives. We will take him there, and then--may God aid us gentlemen. "

"Amen, " nodded Croy, and the echo of the word ran from lip to lip likethe prayer it was. "When do we start?"

I hesitated for just an instant. 

"Now, " I brought forth crisply. "Immediately. We are gambling with thefate of a world, a fine and happy people. Let us throw the dicequickly, for the strain of waiting will not help us. Is that as youwould wish it, gentlemen?"

"It is, sir!" came the grave chorus. 

"Very well. Mr. Croy, please report with a detail of ten men, to BoriTulber, and tell him of our decision. Bring the messenger back withyou. The rest of you, gentlemen, to your stations. Make anypreparations you may think advisable. Be sure that every availableexterior light is in readiness. Let me be notified the moment themessenger is on board and we are ready to take off. Thank you, gentlemen!"

 * * * * *

I hastened to my quarters and brought the _Ertak's_ log down to theminute, explaining in detail the course of action we had decided upon, and the reasons for it. I knew, as did all the _Ertak's_ officers whohad saluted so crisply, and so coolly gone about the business ofcarrying out my orders, that we would return from our trip to the darktide of Antri triumphant or--not at all. 

Even in these soft days, men still respect the stern, proud motto ofour service: "Nothing Less Than Complete Success. " The Special Patroldoes what it is ordered to do, or no man returns to present excuses. That is a tradition to bring tears of pride to the eyes of even an oldman, in whose hands there is strength only for the wielding of a pen. And I was young, in those days. 

It was perhaps a quarter of an hour when word came from the navigatingroom that the messenger was aboard, and we were ready to depart. Iclosed the log, wondering, I remember, if I would ever make anotherentry therein, and, if not, whether the words I had just inscribedwould ever see the light of day. The love of life is strong in men soyoung. Then I hurried to the navigating room and took charge. 

Bori Tulber had furnished me with large scale maps of the daylightportion of Antri. From the information conveyed to me by the messengerof the people of darkness--the Chisee they called themselves, asnearly as I could get the sound--I rapidly sketched in the map of theother side of Antri, locating their principal city with a small blackcircle. 

Realising that the location of the city we sought was onlyapproximate, we did not bother to work out exact bearings. We set the_Ertak_ on her course at a height of only a few thousand feet, and setout at low atmospheric speed, anxiously watching for the dim line ofshadow that marked the twilight zone, and the beginning of whatpromised to be the last mission of the _Ertak_ and every man shecarried within her smooth, gleaming body. 

 * * * * *

"Twilight zone in view, sir, " reported Croy at length. 

"Thank you, Mr. Croy. Have all the exterior lights and searchlightsturned on. Speed and course as at present, for the time being. "

I picked up the twilight zone without difficulty in the televisiondisc, and at full power examined the terrain. 

The rich crops that fairly burst from the earth of the sunlit portionof Antri were not to be observed here. The Antrians made no effort totill this ground, and I doubt that it would have been profitable to doso, even had they wished to come so close to the darkness they hated. 

The ground seemed dank, and great dark slugs moved heavily upon itsgreasy surface. Here and there strange pale growths grew inpatches--twisted, spotted growths that seemed somehow unhealthy andpoisonous. 

I searched the country ahead, pressing further and further into theline of darkness that was swiftly approaching. As the light of the sunfaded, our monstrous searchlights cut into the gloom ahead, theirgreat beams slashing the shadows. 

In the dark country I had expected to find little if any vegetablegrowth. Instead, I found that it was a veritable jungle through whicheven our searchlight rays could not pass. 

How tall the growths of this jungle might be, I could not tell, yet Ihad the feeling that they were tall indeed. They were not trees, thesepale, weedy arms that reached towards the dark sky. They were soft andpulpy, and without leaves; just long naked sickly arms that dividedand subdivided and ended in little smooth stumps like amputated limbs. 

That there was some kind of activity within the shelter of this weirdjungle, was evident enough, for I could catch glimpses, now and thenof moving things. But what they might be, even the searching eye ofthe television disc could not determine. 

 * * * * *

One of our searchlight beams, waving through the darkness like thecurious antenna of some monstrous insect, came to rest upon a spot farahead. I followed the beam with the disc, and bent closer, to makesure my eyes did not deceive me. 

I was looking at a vast cleared place in the pulpy jungle--a clearedspace in the center of which there was a city. 

A city built of black, sweating stone, each house exactly like everyother house: tall, thin slices of stone, without windows, chimneys orornamentation of any kind. The only break in the walls was theslit-like door of each house. Instead of being arranged along streetscrossing each other at right angles, these houses were built inconcentric circles broken only by four narrow streets then ran fromthe open space in the center of the city to the four points of thecompass. Around the entire city was an exceedingly high wall built ofand buttressed with the black, sweating stone of which the houses wereconstructed. 

That it was a densely populated city there was ample evidence. People--they were creatures like the messenger; that the Chisee are apeople, despite their terrible shape, is hardly debatable--wererunning up and down the four radial streets, and around the curvedconnecting streets, in the wildest confusion, their double-elbowedarms flung across their eyes. But even as I watched, the crowd thinnedand melted swiftly away, until the streets of the queer, circular citywere utterly deserted. 

 * * * * *

"The city ahead is not the one we are seeking, sir?" asked Croy, whohad evidently been observing the scene through one of the smallertelevision discs. "I take it that governing city will be farther inthe interior. "

"According to my rather sketchy information, yes. " I replied. "However, keep all the searchlight operators busy, going over very bitof the country within the reach of their beams. You have men on allthe auxiliary television discs?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Good. Any findings of interest should be reported to me instantly. And--Mr. Croy!"

"Yes, sir?"

"You might order, if you will, that rations be served all men at theirposts. " Over such country as this, I felt it would be wise to haveevery man ready for an emergency. It was, perhaps, as well that Iissued this order. 

It was perhaps half an hour after we had passed the circular citywhen, far ahead, I could see the pale, unhealthy forest thinning out. A half dozen of our searchlight beams played upon the denuded area, and as I brought the television disc to bear I saw that we wereapproaching a vast swamp, in which little pools of black waterreflected the dazzling light of our searching beams. 

Nor was this all. Out of the swamp a thousand strange, winged thingswere rising: yellowish, bat-like things with forked tails and fiercehooked beaks. And like some obscene miasma from that swamp, they roseand came straight for the _Ertak_!

 * * * * *

Instantly I pressed the attention signal that warned every man on theship. 

"All disintegrator rays in action at once!" I barked into thetransmitter. "Broad beams, and full energy. Bird-like creatures, deadahead; do not cease action until ordered!"

I heard the disintegrator ray generators deepen their notes before Ifinished speaking, and I smiled grimly, turning to Correy. 

"Slow down as quickly and as much as possible, Mr. Correy, " I ordered. "We have work to do ahead. "

He nodded, and gave the order to the operating room; I felt theforward surge that told me my order was being obeyed, and turned myattention again to the television disc. 

The ray operators were doing their work well. The search lights showedthe air streaked with fine siftings of greasy dust, and these strangewinged creatures were disappearing by the scores as the disintegratorrays beat and played upon them. 

But they came on gamely, fiercely. Where there had been thousands, there were but hundreds . .. Scores . .. Dozens. .. . 

There were only five left. Three of them disappeared at once, but thetwo remaining came on unhesitatingly, their dirty yellow bat-likewings flapping heavily, their naked heads outstretched, and hookedbeaks snapping. 

One of them disappeared in a little sifting of greasy dust, and thesame ray dissolved one wing of the remaining creature. He turned oversuddenly, the one good wing flapping wildly, and tumbled towards thewaiting swamp that has spawned him. Then, as the ray eagerly followedhim, the last of that hellish brood disappeared. 

"Circle slowly, Mr. Correy, " I ordered. I wanted to make sure therewere none of these terrible creatures left. I felt that nothing soterrible should be left alive--even in a world of darkness. 

 * * * * *

Through the television disc I searched the swamp. As I had halfsuspected, the filthy ooze held the young of this race of things:grub-like creatures that flipped their heavy bodies about in theslime, alarmed by the light which searched them out. 

"All disintegrator rays on the swamp, " I ordered. "Sweep it frommargin to margin. Let nothing be left alive there. "

I had a well trained crew. The disintegrator rays massed themselvesinto a marching wall of death, and swept up and down the swamp as aplough turns its furrows. 

It was easy to trace their passage, for behind them the swampdisappeared, leaving in its stead row after row of broad, dusty paths. When we had finished there was no swamp: there was only a naked areaupon which nothing lived, and upon which, for many years, nothingwould grow. 

"Good work, " I commended the disintegrator ray men. "Cease action. "And then, to Correy, "Put her on her course again, please. "

 * * * * *

An hour went by. We passed several more of the strange, damp circularcities, differing from the first we had seen only in the matter ofsize. Another hour passed, and I became anxious. If we were on ourproper course, and I had understood the Chisee messenger correctly, weshould be very close to the governing city. We should--

The waving beam of one of the searchlights came suddenly to rest. Three or four other beams followed it--and then all the others. 

"Large city to port, sir!" called Croy excitedly. 

"Thank you. I believe it is our destination. Cut all searchlightsexcept the forward beam. Mr. Correy!"

"Yes, sir. "

"You can take her over visually now, I believe. The forwardsearchlight beam will keep our destination in view for you. Set herdown cautiously in the center of the city in any suitable place. And--remain at the controls ready for any orders, and have theoperating room crew do likewise. "

"Yes, sir, " said Correy crisply. 

With a tenseness I could not control, I bent over the hoodedtelevision disc and studied the mighty governing city of the Chisee. 

 * * * * *

The governing city of the Chisee was not unlike the others we hadseen, save that it was very much larger, and had eight spoke-likestreets radiating from its center, instead of four. The protectivewall was both thicker and higher. 

There was another difference. Instead of a great open space in thecenter of the city, there was a central, park-like space, in themiddle of which was a massive pile, circular in shape, and built, likeall the rest of the city, of the black, sweating rock which seemed tobe the sole building material of the Chisee. 

We set the _Ertak_ down close to the big circular building, which weguessed--and correctly--to be the seat of government. I ordered thesearchlight ray to be extinguished the moment we landed, and the ethontubes that illuminated our ship inside to be turned off, so that wemight accustom our eyes as much as possible to darkness, finding ourway about with small ethon tube flashlights. 

With a small guard, I stood at the forward exit of the _Ertak_ andwatched the huge circular door back out on its mighty threads, andfinally swing to one side on its massive gimbals. Croy--the onlyofficer with me--and I both wore our menores, and carried fullexpeditionary equipment, as did the guard. 

The Chisee messenger, grimacing and talking excitedly in his sibilant, whispering voice, crouched on all fours (he could not stand in thatsmall space) and waited, three men of the guard on either side of him. I placed his menore on his head and gave him simple, forceful orders, picturing them for him as best I could:

"Go from this place and find others of your kind. Tell them that wewould speak to them with things such as you have upon your head. Runswiftly!"

"I will run, " he conveyed to me, "to those great ones who sent me. " Hepictured them fleetingly. They were creatures like himself, save thatthey were elaborately dressed in fine skins of several pale colors, and wore upon their arms, between their two elbows, broad circlets ofcarved metal which I took to be emblems of power or authority, sincethe chief of them all wore a very broad band. Their faces were muchmore intelligent than their messenger had led me to expect, and theireyes, very large and round, and not at all human, were the eyes ofthoughtful, reasoning creatures. 

 * * * * *

Doubled on all fours, the Chisee crept through the circular exit, andstraightened up. As he did so, from out of the darkness a score ormore of his fellows rushed up, gathering around him, and blocking theexit with their reedy legs. We could hear than talking excitedly inhigh-pitched, squeaky whispers. Then, suddenly I received anexpression from the Chisee who wore the menore:

"Those who are with me have come from those in power. They say one ofyou, and one only, is to come with us to our big men who will learn, through a thing such as I wear upon my head, that which you wish tosay to them. You are to come quickly; at once. "

"I will come, " I replied. "Have those with you make way--"

A heavy hand fell upon my shoulder; a voice spoke eagerly in my ear:

"Sir, you must not go!" It was Croy, and his voice shook with feeling. "You are in command of the _Ertak_; she, and those in her need you. Let me go! I insist, sir!"

I turned in the darkness, quickly and angrily. 

"Mr. Croy, " I said swiftly, "do you realize that you are speaking toyour commanding officer?"

 * * * * *

I felt his grip tighten on my arm as the reproof struck home. 

"Yes, sir, " he said doggedly. "I do. But I repeat that your dutycommands you to remain here. "

"The duty of a commander in this Service leads him to the place ofgreatest danger, Mr. Croy, " I informed him. 

"Then stay with your ship, sir!" he pleaded, craftily. "This may besome trick to get you away, so that they may attack us. Please! Can'tyou see that I am right, sir?"

I thought swiftly. The earnestness of the youngster had touched me. Beneath the formality and the "sirs" there was a real affectionbetween us. 

In the darkness I reached for his hand; I found it and shook itsolemnly--a gesture of Earth which it is hard to explain. It meansmany things. 

"Go, then, Andy, " I said softly. "But do not stay long. An hour at thelongest. If you are not back in that length of time, we'll come afteryou, and whatever else may happen, you can be sure that you will bewell avenged. The _Ertak_ has not lost her stinger. "

"Thank you, John, " he replied. "Remember that I shall wear my menore. If I adjust it to full power, and you do likewise, and stand withoutthe shelter of the _Ertak's_ metal hull, I shall be able tocommunicate with you, should there be any danger. " He pressed my handagain, and strode through the exit out into the darkness, which waslit only by a few distant stars. 

The long, slim legs closed in around him; like a pigmy guarded by theskeletons of giants he was led quickly away. 

 * * * * *

The minutes dragged by. There was a nervous tension on the ship, thelike of which I have experienced not more than a dozen times in all myyears. 

No one spoke aloud. Now and again one man would matter uneasily toanother; there would be a swift, muttered response, and silence again. We were waiting--waiting. 

Ten minutes went by. Twenty. Thirty. 

Impatiently I paced up and down before the exit, the guards at theirposts, ready to obey any orders instantly. 

Forty-five minutes. I walked through the exit; stepped out onto thecold, hard earth. 

I could see, behind me, the shadowy bulk of the _Ertak_. Before me, ablack, shapeless blot against the star-sprinkled sky, was the greatadministrative building of the Chisee. And in there, somewhere, wasAnderson Croy. I glanced down at the luminous dial of my watch. Fiftyminutes. In ten minutes more--

"John Hanson!" My name reached me, faintly but clearly, through themedium of my menore. "This is Croy. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, " I replied instantly. "Are you safe?"

"I am safe. All is well. Very well. Will you promise me now to receivewhat I am about to send, without interruption?"

"Yes, " I replied, thoughtlessly and eagerly. "What is it?"

 * * * * *

"I have had a long conference with the chief or head of the Chisee, "explained Croy rapidly. "He is very intelligent, and his people aremuch further advanced than we thought. 

"Through some form of communication, he has learned of the fight withthe weird birds; it seems that they are--or were--the most dreaded ofall the creatures of this dark world. Apparently we got the wholebrood of them, and this chief, whose name, I gather, is Wieschien, orsomething like that, is naturally much impressed. 

"I have given him a demonstration or two with my atomic pistol and theflashlight--these people are fairly stricken by a ray of lightdirectly in the eyes--and we have reached very favorable terms. 

"I am to remain here as chief bodyguard and adviser, of which he hasneed, for all is not peaceful, I gather, in this kingdom of darkness. In return, he is to give up his plans to subjugate the rest of Antri;he has sworn to do this by what is evidently, to him, a very sacredoath, witnessed solemnly by the rest of his council. 

"Under the circumstances, I believe he will do what he says; in anycase, the great canal will be filled in, and the Antrians will haveplenty of time to erect a great series of disintegrator ray stationsalong the entire twilight zone, using the broad fan rays to form asolid wall against which the Chisee could not advance even did they, at some future date, carry out their plans. The worst possible resultthen would be that the people in the sunlit portion would have tomigrate from certain sections, and perhaps would have day and night, alternately, as do other worlds. 

"This is the agreement we have reached; it is the only one that willsave this world. Do you approve, sir?"

"No! Return immediately, and we will show the Chisee that they cannothold an officer of the Special Patrol as a hostage. Make haste!"

 * * * * *

"It's no go, sir, " came the reply instantly. "I threatened them first. I explained what our disintegrator rays would do, and Wieschienlaughed at me. 

"This city is built upon great subterranean passages that lead to manyhidden exits. If we show the least sign of hostility the work will beresumed on the canal, and, before we can locate the spot, and stop thework, the damage will be done. 

"This is our only chance, sir, to make this expedition a completesuccess. Permit me to judge this fact from the evidence I have beforeme. Whatever sacrifice there is to make, I make gladly. Wieschien asksthat you depart at once, and in peace, and I know this is the onlycourse. Good-by, sir; convey my salutations to my other friends uponthe old _Ertak_, and elsewhere. And now, lest my last act as anofficer of the Special Patrol Service be to refuse to obey thecommands of my superior officer, I am removing the menore. Good-by!"

I tried to reach him again, but there was no response. 

Gone! He was gone! Swallowed up in darkness and in silence!

 * * * * *

Dazed, shaken to the very foundation of my being, I stood therebetween the shadowy bulk of the _Ertak_ and the towering mass of thegreat silent pile that was the seat of government in this strange landof darkness, and gazed up at the dark sky above me. I am not ashamed, now, to say that hot tears trickled down my cheeks, nor that as Iturned back to the _Ertak_, my throat was so gripped by emotion that Icould not speak. 

I ordered the exit closed with a wave of my hand; in the navigatingroom I said but four words: "We depart at once. "

At the third meal of the day I gathered my officers about me and toldthem, as quickly and as gently as I could, of the sacrifice one oftheir number had made. 

It was Kincaide who, when I had finished, rose slowly and made reply. 

"Sir, " he said quietly, "We had a friend. Some day, he might havedied. Now he will live forever in the records of the Service, in thememory of a world, and in the hearts of those who had the honor toserve with him. Could he--or we--wish more?"

Amid a strange silence he sat down again, and there was not an eyeamong us that was dry. 

 * * * * *

I hope that the snappy young officer who visited me the other dayreads this little account of bygone times. 

Perhaps it will make clear to him how we worked, in those nearlyforgotten days, with the tools we had at hand. They were not theperfect tools of to-day, but what they lacked, we somehow made up. 

That fine old motto of the Service, "Nothing Less Than CompleteSuccess, " we passed on unsullied to those who came after us. 

I hope these youngsters of to-day may do as well. 

 _IN THE NEXT ISSUE_

 THE TENTACLES FROM BELOW

 _A Complete Novelette of An American Submarine's Dramatic Raid on Marauding "Machine-Fish" of the Ocean Floor_

 By Anthony Gilmore

 PHALANXES OF ATLANS

 _Beginning a Thrilling Two-Part Novel of a Strange Hidden Civilisation_

 By F. V. W. Mason

 THE BLACK LAMP

 _Another of Dr. Bird's Amazing Exploits_

 By Captain S. P. Meek

 THE PIRATE PLANET

 _The Conclusion of the Splendid Current Novel_

 By Charles W. Diffin

 _AND OTHERS!_

[Illustration: _They tilted her rudders and dove to the abysm below. _]

The Sunken Empire

_By H. Thompson Rich_

 Concerning the strange adventures of Professor Stevens with the Antillians on the floors of the mysterious Sargasso Sea. 

"Then you really expect to find the lost continent of Atlantis, Professor?"

Martin Stevens lifted his bearded face sternly to the reporter who wasinterviewing him in his study aboard the torpedo-submarine _Nereid_, acraft of his own invention, as she lay moored at her Brooklyn wharf, on an afternoon in October. 

"My dear young man, " he said, "I am not even going to look for it. "

The aspiring journalist--Larry Hunter by name--was properly abashed. 

"But I thought, " he insisted nevertheless, "that you said you weregoing to explore the ocean floor under the Sargasso Sea?"

"And so I did. " Professor Stevens admitted, a smile moving that graybeard now and his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "But the Sargasso, anarea almost equal to Europe, covers other land as well--land of farmore recent submergence than Atlantis, which foundered in 9564 B. C. , according to Plato. What I am going to look for is this newer lostcontinent, or island rather--namely, the great island of Antillia, ofwhich the West Indies remain above water to-day. "

"Antillia?" queried Larry Hunter, wonderingly. "I never heard of it. "

Again the professor regarded his interviewer sternly. 

"There are many things you have never heard of, young man, " he toldhim. "Antillia may be termed the missing link between Atlantis andAmerica. It was there that Atlantean culture survived after theappalling catastrophe that wiped out the Atlantean homeland, with itsseventy million inhabitants, and it was in the colonies the Antilliansestablished in Mexico and Peru, that their own culture in turnsurvived, after Antillia too had sunk. "

"My Lord! You don't mean to say the Mayas and Incas originated on thatisland of Antillia?"

"No, I mean to say they originated on the continent of Atlantis, andthat Antillia was the stepping stone to the New World, where theybuilt the strange pyramids we find smothered in the jungle--even asthousands of years before the Atlanteans established colonies in Egyptand founded the earliest dynasties of pyramid-building Pharaohs. "

 * * * * *

Larry was pushing his pencil furiously. 

"Whew!" he gasped. "Some story, Professor!"

"To the general public, perhaps, " was the reply. "But to scholars ofantiquity, these postulates are pretty well known and pretty wellaccepted. It remains but to get concrete evidence, in order to provethem to the world at large--and that is the object of my expedition. "

More hurried scribbling, then:

"But, say--why don't you go direct to Atlantis and get the real dope?"

"Because that continent foundered so long ago that it is doubtful ifany evidence would have withstood the ravages of time, " ProfessorStevens explained, "whereas Antillia went down no earlier than 200 B. C. , archaeologists agree. "

"That answers my question, " declared Larry, his admiration for thisdoughty graybeard rising momentarily. "And now, Professor, I wonder ifyou'd be willing to say a few words about this craft of yours?"

"Cheerfully, if you think it would interest anyone. What would youcare to have me say?"

"Well, in the first place, what does the name _Nereid_ mean?"

"Sea-nymph. The derivation is from the Latin and Greek, meaningdaughter of the sea-god Nereus. Appropriate, don't you think?"

"Swell. And why do you call it a torpedo-submarine? How does it differfrom the common or navy variety?"

 * * * * *

Professor Stevens smiled. It was like asking what was the differencebetween the sun and the moon, when about the only point of resemblancethey had was that they were both round. Nevertheless, he enumeratedsome of the major modifications he had developed. 

Among them, perhaps the most radical, was its motive power, which wasproduced by what he called a vacuo-turbine--a device that sucked inthe water at the snout of the craft and expelled it at the tail, atthe time purifying a certain amount for drinking purposes andextracting sufficient oxygen to maintain a healthful atmosphere whilerunning submerged. 

Then, the structure of the _Nereid_ was unique, he explained, permitting it to attain depths where the pressure would crush anordinary submarine, while mechanical eyes on the television principleafforded a view in all directions, and locks enabling them to leavethe craft at will and explore the sea-bottom were provided. 

This latter feat they would accomplish in special suits, designed onthe same pneumatic principle as the torpedo itself and capable ofsustaining sufficient inflation to resist whatever pressures might beencountered, as well as being equipped with vibratory sending andreceiving apparatus, for maintaining communication with those leftaboard. 

 * * * * *

All these things and more Professor Stevens outlined, as Larry'spencil flew, admitting that he had spent the past ten years and thebest part of his private fortune in developing his plans. 

"But you'll get it all back, won't you? Aren't there all sorts ofSpanish galleons and pirate barques laden with gold supposed to bedown there?"

"Undoubtedly, " was the calm reply. "But I am not on a treasure hunt, young man. If I find one single sign of former life, I shall be amplyrewarded. "

Whereupon the young reporter regarded the subject of his interviewwith fresh admiration, not unmingled with wonder. In his own hecticworld, people had no such scorn of gold. Gee, he'd sure like to goalong! The professor could have his old statues or whatever he waslooking for. As for himself, he'd fill up his pockets with Spanishdoubloons and pieces of eight!

Larry was snapped out of his trance by a light knock on the door, which opened to admit a radiant girl in creamy knickers and greencardigan. 

"May I come in, daddy?" she inquired, hesitating, as she saw he wasnot alone. 

"You seem to be in already, my dear, " the professor told her, risingfrom his desk and stepping forward. 

Then, turning to Larry, who had also risen, he said:

"Mr. Hunter, this is my daughter, Diane, who is also my secretary. "

"I am pleased to meet you, Miss Stevens, " said Larry, taking her hand. 

And he meant it--for almost anyone would have been pleased to meetDiane, with her tawny gold hair, warm olive cheeks and eyes bluer eventhan her father's and just as twinkling, just as intelligent. 

"She will accompany the expedition and take stenographic notes ofeverything we observe, " added her father, to Larry's amazement. 

"What?" he declared. "You mean to say that--that--"

"Of course he means to say that I'm going, if that's what you mean tosay, Mr. Hunter, " Diane assured him. "Can you think of any good reasonwhy I shouldn't go, when girls are flying around the world andeverything else?"

Even had Larry been able to think of any good reason, he wouldn't havementioned it. But as a matter of fact, he had shifted quite abruptlyto an entirely different line of thought. Diane, he wasthinking--Diana, goddess of the chase, the huntress! And himself, Larry Hunter--the hunter and the huntress!

Gee, but he'd like to go! What an adventure, hunting around togetheron the bottom of the ocean!

 * * * * *

What a wild dream, rather, he concluded when his senses returned. Forafter all, he was only a reporter, fated to write about other people'sadventures, not to participate in them. So he put away his pad andpencil and prepared to leave. 

But at the door he paused. 

"Oh, yes--one more question. When are you planning to leave, Professor?"

At that, Martin Stevens and his daughter exchanged a swift glance. Then, with a smile, Diane said:

"I see no reason why we shouldn't tell him, daddy. "

"But we didn't tell the reporters from the other papers, my dear, "protested her father. 

"Then suppose we give Mr. Hunter the exclusive story, " she said, transferring her smile to Larry now. "It will be what you call a--ascoop. Isn't that it?"

"That's it. "

She caught her father's acquiescing nod. "Then here's your scoop, Mr. Hunter. We leave to-night. "

To-night! This was indeed a scoop! If he hurried, he could catch thelate afternoon editions with it. 

"I--I certainly thank you, Miss Stevens!" he exclaimed. "That'll makethe front page!"

As he grasped the door-knob, he added, turning to her father:

"And I want to thank you too, Professor--and wish you good luck!"

Then, with a hasty handshake, and a last smile of gratitude for Diane, he flung open the door and departed, unconscious that two young blueeyes followed his broad shoulders wistfully till they disappeared fromview. 

 * * * * *

But Larry was unaware that he had made a favorable impression onDiane. He felt it was the reverse. As he headed toward the subway, that vivid blond goddess of the chase was uppermost in his thoughts. 

Soon she'd be off in the _Nereid_, bound for the mysterious regionsunder the Sargasso Sea, while in a few moments he'd be in the subway, bound under the prosaic East River for New York. 

No--damned if he would!

Suddenly, with a wild inspiration, the young reporter altered hiscourse, dove into the nearest phone booth and got his city editor onthe wire. 

Scoop? This was just the first installment. He'd get a scoop thatwould fill a book!

And his city editor tacitly O. K. 'd the idea. 

With the result that when the _Nereid_ drew away from her wharf thatnight, on the start of her unparalleled voyage, Larry Hunter was astowaway. 

 * * * * *

The place where he had succeeded in secreting himself was a smallstoreroom far aft, on one of the lower decks. There he huddled in thedarkness, while the slow hours wore away, hearing only the low hum ofthe craft's vacuo-turbine and the flux of water running through her. 

From the way she rolled and pitched, he judged she was stillproceeding along on the surface. 

Having eaten before he came aboard, he felt no hunger, but the closeair and the dark quarters brought drowsiness. He slept. 

When he awoke it was still dark, of course, but a glance at hisluminous wrist-watch told him it was morning now. And the fact thatthe rolling and pitching had ceased made him believe they were nowrunning submerged. 

The urge for breakfast asserting itself, Larry drew a bar of chocolatefrom his pocket and munched on it. But this was scanty fare for ahealthy young six-footer, accustomed to a liberal portion of ham andeggs. Furthermore, the lack of coffee made him realize that he wasgetting decidedly thirsty. The air, moreover, was getting pretty bad. 

"All in all, this hole wasn't exactly intended for a bedroom!" hereflected with a wry smile. 

Taking a chance, he opened the door a crack and sat there impatiently, while the interminable minutes ticked off. 

The _Nereid's_ turbine was humming now with a high, vibrant note thatindicated they must be knocking off the knots at a lively clip. Hewondered how far out they were, and how far down. 

Lord, there'd be a riot when he showed up! He wanted to wait till theywere far enough on their way so it would be too much trouble to turnaround and put him ashore. 

But by noon his powers of endurance were exhausted. Flinging open thedoor, he stepped out into the corridor, followed it to a companionwayand mounted the ladder to the deck above. 

There he was assailed by a familiar and welcome odor--food!

Trailing it to its origin, he came to a pair of swinging doors at theend of a cork-paved passage. Beyond, he saw on peering through, wasthe mess-room, and there at the table, among a number of uniformedofficers, sat Professor Stevens and Diane. 

A last moment Larry stood there, looking in on them. Then, drawing adeep breath, he pushed wide the swinging doors and entered with acheery:

"Good morning, folks! Hope I'm not too late for lunch!"

 * * * * *

Varying degrees of surprise greeted this dramatic appearance. Theofficers stared, Diane gasped, her father leaped to has feet with acry. 

"That reporter! Why--why, what are you doing here, young man?"

"Just representing the press. "

Larry tried to make it sound nonchalant but he was finding itdifficult to bear up under this barrage of disapprovingeyes--particularly two very young, very blue ones. 

"So that is the way you reward us for giving you an exclusive story, is it?" Professor Stevens' voice was scathing. "A representative ofthe press! A stowaway, rather--and as such you will be treated!"

He turned to one of his officers. 

"Report to Captain Petersen that we have a stowaway aboard and orderhim to put about at once. "

He turned to another. 

"See that Mr. Hunter is taken below and locked up. When we reach NewYork, he will be handed over to the police. "

"But daddy!" protested Diane, as they rose to comply, her eyessoftening now. "We shouldn't be too severe with Mr. Hunter. After all, he is probably doing only what his paper ordered him to. "

 * * * * *

Gratefully Larry turned toward his defender. But he couldn't let thatpass. 

"No, I'm acting only on my own initiative, " he said. "No one told meto come. "

For he couldn't get his city editor involved, and after all it was hisown idea. 

"You see!" declared Professor Stevens. "He admits it is his own doing. It is clear he has exceeded his authority, therefore, and deserves nosympathy. "

"But can't you let me stay, now that I'm here?" urged Larry. "I knowsomething about boats. I'll serve as a member of the crew--anything. "

"Impossible. We have a full complement. You would be more of ahindrance than a help. Besides, I do not care to have the possibleresults of this expedition blared before the public. "

"I'll write nothing you do not approve. "

"I have no time to edit your writings, young man. My own, will occupyme sufficiently. So it is useless. You are only wasting yourbreath--and mine. "

He motioned for his officers to carry out his orders. 

But before they could move to do so, in strode a lean, middle-agedNorwegian Larry sensed must be Captain Petersen himself, and on hisweathered face was an expression of such gravity that it was obviousto everyone something serious had happened. 

 * * * * *

Ignoring Larry, after one brief look of inquiry that was answered byProfessor Stevens, he reported swiftly what he had to say. 

While cruising full speed at forty fathoms, with kite-aerial out, their wireless operator had received a radio warning to turn back. Answering on its call-length, he had demanded to know the sender andthe reason for the message, but the information had been declined, thewarning merely being repeated. 

"Was it a land station or a ship at sea?" asked the professor. 

"Evidently the latter, " was the reply. "By our radio range-finder, wedetermined the position at approximately latitude 27, longitude 65. "

"But that, Captain, is in the very area we are headed for. "

"And that, Professor, makes it all the more singular. "

"But--well, well! This is indeed peculiar! And I had been on the pointof turning back with our impetuous young stowaway. What would yousuggest, sir?"

Captain Petersen meditated, while Larry held his breath. 

"To turn back, " he said at length, in his clear, precise English, "would in my opinion be to give the laugh to someone whose sense ofhumor is already too well developed. "

"Exactly!" agreed Professor Stevens, as Larry relaxed in relief. "Whoever this practical joker is, we will show him he is wasting histalents--even though it means carrying a supernumerary for the rest ofthe voyage. "

"Well spoken!" said the captain. "But as far as that is concerned, Ithink I can keep Mr. Hunter occupied. "

"Then take him, and welcome!"

Whereupon, still elated but now somewhat uneasy, Larry accompaniedCaptain Petersen from the mess-room; started to, that is. But at aglance of sympathy from Diane, he dared call out:

"Say--hold on, folks! I haven't had lunch yet!"

 * * * * *

When young Larry Hunter reported to the captain of the _Nereid_, afterthis necessary meal, he found that the craft had returned to thesurface. 

Assigned a pair of powerful binoculars, he was ordered to stand watchin the conning-tower and survey the horizon in every direction, in aneffort to sight the vessel that had sent out that mysterious radio, but though he cast his good brown eyes diligently through those stronglenses, he saw not so much as a smoke tuft upon the broad, gray-bluesurface of the hazy Atlantic. 

Gradually, however, as the afternoon wore away, something else came inview. Masses of brownish seaweed, supported by small, berry-likebladders, began drifting by. Far apart at first, they began gettingmore and more dense, till at last, with a thrill, he realized thatthey were drawing into that strange area known as the Sargasso Sea. 

Shortly after this realization dawned, he was ordered below, and asthe tropic sun was sinking over that eery floating tombstone, whichaccording to Professor Stevens marked a nation's grave, the _Nereid_submerged. 

Down she slid, a hundred fathoms or more, on a long, even glide thattook her deep under that veiling brown blanket. 

 * * * * *

In the navigating room now, Larry stood with the captain, theprofessor and Diane, studying an illuminated panel on which appeared across of five squares, like a box opened out. 

The central square reproduced the scene below, while those to left andright depicted it from port and starboard, and those to front and rearrevealed the forward and aft aspects of the panorama, thus affording aclear view in every direction. 

This, then, was the television device Professor Stevens had referredto the previous afternoon, its mechanical eyes enabling then to searchevery square inch of those mysterious depths, as they cruised along. 

It was the central square that occupied their attention chiefly, however, as they stood studying the panel. While the othersrepresented merely an unbroken vista of greenish water, this oneshowed the sea floor as clearly as though they had been peering downinto a shallow lagoon through a glass-bottomed boat, though it musthave been a quarter of a mile below their cruising level. 

A wonderful and fearsome sight it was to Larry: like something seen ina nightmare--a fantastic desert waste of rocks and dunes, with hereand there a yawning chasm whose ominous depths their ray failed topenetrate, and now and then a jutting plateau that would appear on theforward square and cause Captain Petersen to elevate their bowsharply. 

But more thrilling than this was their first glimpse of a sunkenship--a Spanish galleon, beyond a doubt!

There she lay, grotesquely on her side, half rotted, half buried inthe sand, but still discernible. And to Larry's wildly racingimagination, a flood of gold and jewels seemed to pour from her ruinedcoffers. 

 * * * * *

Turning to Diane, he saw that her eyes too were flashing with intenseexcitement. 

"Say!" he exclaimed. "Why don't we stop and look her over? There maybe a fortune down there!"

Professor Stevens promptly vetoed the suggestion, however. 

"I must remind you, young man, " he said severely, "that this is not atreasure hunt. "

Whereupon Larry subsided; outwardly, at least. But when presently thecentral square revealed another and then another sunken ship, it wasall he could do to contain himself. 

Now, suddenly, Diane cried out:

"Oh, daddy, look! There's a modern ship! A--a freighter, isn't it?"

"A collier, I would say, " was her father's calm reply. "Rather a largeone, too. _Cyclops_, possibly. She disappeared some years ago, enroute from the Barbados to Norfolk. Or possibly it is any one of adozen other steel vessels that have vanished from these seas in recenttimes. The area of the Sargasso, my dear, is known as 'The Port ofMissing Ships. '"

"But couldn't we drop down and make sure which ship it is?" shepleaded, voicing the very thought Larry had been struggling tosuppress. 

At the professor's reply, however, he was glad he had kept quiet. 

"We could, of course, " was his gentle though firm rebuke, "but if westopped to solve the mystery of every sunken ship we shall probablysee during this cruise, we would have time for nothing else. Nevertheless, my dear, you may take a short memorandum of the locationand circumstances, in the present instance. "

Whereupon he dictated briefly, while Larry devoted his attention oncemore to the central square. 

 * * * * *

Suddenly, beyond a dark pit that seemed to reach down into the verybowels of the earth, rose an abrupt plateau--and on one of its nearerelevations, almost directly under then, loomed a monumental four-sidedmound. 

"Say--hold on!" called Larry. "Look at that, Professor! Isn't that abuilding of some kind?"

Martin Stevens looked up, glanced skeptically toward the panel. Butone glimpse at what that central square revealed, and his skepticismvanished. 

"A building?" he cried in triumph. "A building indeed! It is apyramid, young man!"

"Good Lord!"

"Oh, daddy! Really?"

"Beyond a doubt! And look--there are two other similar structures, only smaller!"

Struggling for calm, he turned to Captain Petersen, who had taken hiseyes from the forward square and was peering down as well upon thosesingular mounds. 

"Stop! Descend!" was his exultant command. "This is my proof! We havediscovered Antillia!"

 * * * * *

Swiftly the _Nereid_ dropped to that submerged plateau. 

In five minutes, her keel was resting evenly on the smooth sand besidethe largest of the three pyramids. 

Professor Stevens then announced that he would make a preliminaryinvestigation of the site at once. 

"For, otherwise, I for one would be quite unable to sleep tonight!"declared the graybeard, with a boyish chuckle. 

He added that Diane would accompany him. 

At this latter announcement, Larry's heart sank. He had hoped againsthope that he might be invited along with them. 

But once again his champion came to his aid. 

"We really ought to let Mr. Hunter come with us, daddy, don't youthink?" she urged, noting his disappointment. "After all, it was hewho made the discovery. "

"Very true, " said her father, "but I had not thought it necessary foranyone to accompany us. In the event anyone does, Captain Petersenshould have that honor. "

But this honor the captain declined. 

"If you don't mind, sir, I'd prefer to stay with the ship, " he said, quietly. "I haven't forgotten that radio warning. "

"But surely you don't think anyone can molest us down here?" scoffedthe professor. 

"No, but I'd prefer to stay with the ship just the same, sir, if youdon't mind. "

"Very well"--with a touch of pique. "Then you may come along if youcare to, Mr. Hunter. "

If he cared to!

"Thanks, Professor!" he said with a grateful look toward Diane. "I'dbe keen to!"

 * * * * *

So he accompanied them below, where they donned theirpressure-suits--rubber affairs rather less cumbersome than ordinarydeep-sea diving gear, reinforced with steel wire and provided withthick glass goggles and powerful searchlights, in addition to theirvibratory communication apparatus and other devices that wereexplained to Larry. 

When he had mastered their operation, which was rendered simple byreason of the fact that they were so nearly automatic, the triostepped into a lock on the floor of the ship and Professor Stevensordered them to couple their suits to air-valve connections on thewall, at the same time admitting water by opening another valve. 

Swiftly the lock flooded, while their suits inflated. 

"All right?" came his vibratory query. 

"Right!" they both answered. 

"Then stand by for the heavy pressure. "

Wider now he opened the water-valve, letting the ocean in, while atthe same time their suits continued inflating through their air-valveconnections. 

To his surprise, Larry found himself no more inconvenienced by thepressure than he had been from the moment the submarine dove to itspresent depth. Indeed, most of the air that was coming into his suitwas filling the reinforced space between its inner and outer layers, much as the _Nereid_ held air under pressure between her two thickshells. 

"All right now?" called out the professor's vibrator. 

"Right!" they called back again. 

"Then uncouple your air-valve connections and make ready. "

They did so; and he likewise. 

Then, advancing to a massive door like that of a vault, he flung backits powerful clamps, dragged it open--and there beyond, its pressureequaled by that within the lock, loomed the black tide of the oceanbottom. 

 * * * * *

Awed by this solemn sight, tingling with a sense of unparalleledadventure, Larry stood there a moment, peering out over the thresholdof that untrodden world. 

Then he followed Diane and her father into its beckoning mystery. .. . 

Their searchlights cutting bright segments into the dark, theyproceeded toward the vast mound that towered ahead, pushing through aweird realm of phosphorescent fish and other marine creatures. 

As they neared it, any possible doubt that it was in fact a pyramidvanished. Corroded by the action of salt water and covered with theincrustations of centuries, it nevertheless presented unmistakableevidence of human construction, rising in steps of massive masonry toa summit shadowy in the murk above. 

As Larry stood gazing upon that mighty proof that this submergedplateau had once stood forth proudly above the sea, he realized thathe was a party to one of the most profound discoveries of the ages. What a furore this would make when he reported it back to his New Yorkpaper!

But New York seemed remote indeed, now. Would they ever get back? Whatif anything went wrong with their pressure-suits--or if they shouldbecome lost?

He glanced back uneasily, but there gleamed the reassuring lights ofthe _Nereid_, not a quarter of a mile away. 

Diane and her father were now rounding a corner of the pyramid and hefollowed them, his momentary twinge of anxiety gone. 

 * * * * *

For some moments, Professor Stevens prowled about without comment, examining the huge basal blocks of the structure and glancing up itssloping sides. 

"You see, I was right!" he declared at length. "This is not only aman-made edifice but a true pyramid, embodying the same architecturalprinciples as the Mayan and Egyptian forms. We see before us thevisible evidence of a sunken empire--the missing link between Atlantisand America. "

No comments greeted this profound announcement and the professorcontinued:

"This structure appears to be similar in dimensions with that of thepyramid of Xochicalco, in Mexico, which in turn approximates that ofthe "Sacred Hill" of Atlantis, mentioned by Plato, and which was theprototype of both the Egyptian and Mayan forms. It was here theAntillians, as the Atlanteans had taught them to do, worshipped theirgrim gods and performed the human sacrifices they thought necessary toappease them. And it was here, too, if I am not mistaken, that--"

Suddenly his vibratory discourse was broken into by a sharp signalfrom the submarine:

"Pardon interruption! Hurry back! We are attacked!"

At this, the trio stood rigid. 

"Captain Petersen! Captain Petersen!" Larry heard the professor call. "Speak up! Give details! What has happened?"

But an ominous silence greeted the query. 

Another moment they stood there, thoroughly dismayed now. Then camethe professor's swift command:

"Follow me--quickly!"

He was already in motion, retracing his steps as fast as his bulkysuit would permit. But as he rounded the corner of the pyramid, theysaw him pause, stand staring. And as they drew up, they in turnpaused; stood staring, too. 

With sinking hearts, they saw that the _Nereid_ was gone. 

 * * * * *

Stunned by this disaster, they stood facing one another--three lonehuman beings, on the bottom of the Atlantic ocean, their sole means ofsalvation gone. 

Professor Stevens was the first to speak. 

"This is unbelievable!" he said. "I cannot credit it. We must havelost our senses. "

"Or our bearings!" added Diane, more hopefully. "Suppose we lookaround the other side. "

As for Larry, a darker suspicion flashed through his mind. CaptainPetersen! Had he seized his opportunity and led the crew to mutiny, inthe hope of converting the expedition into a treasure hunt? Was thatthe reason he had been so willing to remain behind?

He kept his suspicion to himself, however, and accompanied Diane andher father on a complete circuit of the pyramid; but, as he feared, there was no sign of the _Nereid_ anywhere. The craft had vanished ascompletely as though the ocean floor had opened and swallowed her up. 

But no, not as completely as that! For presently the professor, whohad proceeded to the site where they left the craft resting on thesand, called out excitedly:

"Here--come here! There are tracks! Captain Petersen was right! Theywere attacked!"

Hurrying to the scene, they saw before them the plain evidences of astruggle. The ocean bottom was scuffed and stamped, as though by manyfeet, and a clear trail showed where the craft had finally beendragged away. 

Obviously there was but one thing to do and they did it. After a briefconference, they turned and followed the trail. 

 * * * * *

It led off over the plateau a quarter mile or more, in an eastwarddirection, terminating at length beside one of the smallerpyramids--and there lay the _Nereid_, apparently unharmed. 

But her lights were out and there came no answer to their repeatedcalls, so they judged she must be empty. 

What had happened to Captain Petersen and his crew? What strangesub-sea enemy had overcome them? What was now their fate?

Unanswerable question! But one thing was certain. Larry had misjudgedthe captain in suspecting him of mutiny. He was sorry for this andresolved he would make amends by doing all in his power to rescue himand his men, if they were still living. 

Meanwhile his own plight, and that of Diane and her father, wascritical. What was to be done?

Suddenly, as all three stood there debating that question, ProfessorStevens uttered an exclamation and strode toward the pyramid. Following him with their eyes, they saw him pass through an aperturewhere a huge block of stone had been displaced--and disappear within. 

The next moment they had joined him, to find themselves in a smallflooded chamber at whose far end a narrow gallery sloped upward at asharp angle. 

The floor and walls were tiled, they noted, and showed none of thecorrosion of the exterior surfaces. Indeed, so immaculate was the roomthat it might have been occupied but yesterday. 

As they stood gazing around in wonder, scarcely daring to draw thenatural inferences of this phenomena, there came a rasping sound, and, turning toward the entrance, they saw a massive section of masonrydescend snugly into place. 

They were trapped!

 * * * * *

Standing there tense, speechless, they waited, wondering what would bethe next move of this strange enemy who held them now so surely in hispower. 

Nor had they long to wait. 

Almost immediately, there issued a gurgling sound from the inclinedgallery, and turning their eyes in the direction of this newphenomena, they saw that the water level was receding, as though underpressure from above. 

"Singular!" muttered Professor Stevens. "A sort of primitive lock. Itseems incredible that human creatures could exist down here, but suchappears to be the case. "

Larry had no desire to dispute the assumption, nor had Diane. Theystood there as people might in the imminence of the supernatural, awaiting they knew not what. 

Swiftly the water receded. 

Now it was scarcely up to their waists, now plashing about theirankles, and now the room was empty. 

The next moment, there sounded a rush of feet--and down the gallerycame a swarm of the strangest beings any of them had ever seen. 

They were short, thin, almost emaciated, with pale, pinched faces andpasty, half-naked bodies. But they shimmered with ornaments of goldand jade, like some strange princes from the realm of Neptune--orrather, like Aztec chieftains of the days of Cortes, thought Larry. 

Blinking in the glare of the searchlights, they clamored around theircaptives, touching their pressure-suits half in awe and chatteringamong themselves. 

 * * * * *

Then one of them, larger and more regally clad than the rest, steppedup and gestured toward the balcony. 

"They obviously desire us to accompany them above, " said theprofessor, "and quite as obviously we have little choice in thematter, so I suggest we do so. "

"Check!" said Larry. 

"And double-check!" added Diane. 

So they started up, preceded by a handful of their captors andfollowed by the main party. 

The gallery seemed to be leading toward the center of the pyramid, butafter a hundred feet or so it turned and continued up at a rightangle, turning twice more before they arrived at length in anotherstone chamber, smaller than the one below. 

Here their guides paused and waited for the main party. 

There followed another conference, whereupon their leader stepped upagain, indicating this time that they were to remove their suits. 

At this, Professor Stevens balked. 

"It is suicide!" he declared. "The air to which they are accustomedhere is doubtless at many times our own atmospheric pressure. "

"But I don't see that there's anything to do about it, " said Larry, astheir captors danced about them menacingly. "I for one will take achance!"

And before they could stop him, he had pressed the release-valve, emitting the air from his suit--slowly, at first, then more and morerapidly, as no ill effects seemed to result. 

Finally, flinging off the now deflated suit, he stepped before them inhis ordinary clothes, calling with a smile:

"Come on out, folks--the air's fine!"

 * * * * *

This statement was somewhat of an exaggeration, as the air smelt dankand bad. But at least it was breathable, as Diane and her father foundwhen they emerged from their own suits. 

They discovered, furthermore, now that their flashlights were nolonger operating, that a faint illumination lit the room, issuing froma number of small crystal jars suspended from the walls: some sort ofphosphorescence, evidently. 

Once again the leader of the curious throng stepped up to them, beaming now and addressing Professor Stevens in some barbaric tongue, and, to their amazement, he replied in words approximating its harshsyllables. 

"Why, daddy!" gasped Diane. "How can you talk to him?"

"Simply enough, " was the reply. "They speak a language which seems tobe about one-third Basque, mixed oddly with Greek. It merely provesanother hypothesis of mine, namely, that the Atlantean influencereached eastward to the Pyrenees mountains and the Hellenic peninsula, as well as to Egypt. "

 * * * * *

Whereupon he turned and continued his conversation, haltingly it istrue and with many gestures, but understandably nevertheless. 

"I have received considerable enlightenment as to the mystery of thisstrange sunken empire, " he reported, turning back to them at length. "It is a singular story this creature tells, of how his country sankslowly beneath the waves, during the course of centuries, and of howhis ancestors adapted themselves by degrees to the present conditions. I shall report it to you both, in detail, when time affords. But themain thing now is that a man similar to ourselves has conquered theircountry and set himself up as emperor. It is to him we are about to betaken. "

"But it doesn't seem possible!" exclaimed Diane. "Why, how could hehave got down here?"

"In a craft similar to our own, according to this creature. Heavenknows what it is we are about to face! But whatever it is, we willface it bravely. "

"Check and double-check!" said Larry, with a glance toward Diane thattold her she would not find him wanting. 

They were not destined to meet the test just then, however, for justat that moment a courier in breech-clout and sandals dashed up thegallery and burst into the room, bearing in his right hand a thinsquare of metal. 

Bowing, he handed it to the leader of the pigmy throng, with the awedword:

"_Cabiri!_"

At this, Professor Stevens gave a start. 

"A message from their high priests!" he whispered. 

Whatever it contained, the effect produced on the reader was profound. Facing his companions, he addressed them gravely. Then, turning fromthe room, he commanded the captives to follow. 

 * * * * *

The way led back down the inclined gallery to a point where anotherdoor now stood open, then on down until finally the passage leveledout into a long, straight tunnel. 

This they traversed for fully a mile, entering at length a large, square chamber where for a moment they paused. 

"I judge we are now at the base of the large pyramid, " the professorvoiced in an undertone. "It would naturally be the abode of the highpriests. "

"But what do you suppose they want with us?" asked Diane. 

"That I am not disposed to conjecture, " was her father's reply. 

But the note of anxiety in his voice was not lost on Diane, nor onLarry, who pressed her hand reassuringly. 

Now their captors led them from the room through a small door openingon another inclined gallery, whose turns they followed until all wereout of breath from the climb. 

It ended abruptly on a short, level corridor with apertures to leftand right. 

Into the latter they were led, finding themselves in a grotesquelyfurnished room, lit dimly by phosphorescent lamps. 

Swiftly the leader addressed Professor Stevens. Then all withdrew. Theaperture was closed by a sliding block of stone. 

 * * * * *

For a moment they stood there silent, straining their eyes in thegloom to detect the details of their surroundings, which includedseveral curious chairs and a number of mattings strewn on the tiledfloor. 

"What did he say?" asked Diane at length, in a tremulous voice. 

"He said we will remain here for the night, " her father replied, "andwill be taken before the high priests at dawn. "

"At dawn!" exclaimed Larry. "How the deuce do they know when it isdawn, down here?"

"By their calendars, which they have kept accurately, " was the answer. "But there are many other questions you must both want to ask, so Ishall anticipate them by telling you now what I have been able tolearn. Suppose we first sit down, however. I for one am weary. "

Whereupon they drew up three of those curious chairs of some heavywood carved with the hideous figures of this strange people's ancientgods, and Professor Stevens began. 

 * * * * *

Their sunken empire, as he had surmised, had indeed been the greatisland of Antillia and a colony of Atlantis. A series of earthquakesand tidal waves such as engulfed their homeland ages before had sentit down, and the estimated archaeological date of the finalsubmergence--namely, 200 B. C. --was approximately correct. 

But long before this ultimate catastrophe, the bulk of thedisheartened population had migrated to Central and South America, founding the Mayan and Incan dynasties. Many of the faithful hadstayed on, however, among them most of the Cabiri or high priests, whoeither were loath to leave their temples or had been ordered by theirgods to remain. 

At any rate, they had remained, and as the great island sank lower andlower, they had fortified themselves against the disaster in theirpyramids, which by then alone remained above the surface. 

These, too, had gradually disappeared beneath the angry waters, however, and with them had disappeared the steadfast priests and theirfaithful followers, sealing their living tombs into air-tightbell-jars that retained the atmosphere. 

This they had supplemented at first by drawing it down from above, butas time went by they found other means of getting air; extracting itfrom the sea water under pressure, by utilizing their subterraneanvolcanoes, in whose seething cauldrons the gods had placed theirsalvation; and it was this process that now provided them with theatmosphere which had so amazed their captives. 

But naturally, lack of sunshine had produced serious degeneration intheir race, and that accounted for their diminutive forms and palebodies. Still, they had been able to survive with a degree ofhappiness until some ten or a dozen years ago, when a strange enemyhad come down in a great metal fish, like that of these new strangers, and with a handful of men had conquered their country. 

This marauder was after their gold and had looted their templesruthlessly, carrying away its treasures, for which they hated him witha fury that only violation of their most sacred deities could arouse. Long ago they would have destroyed him, but for the fact that hepossessed terrible weapons which were impossible to combat. But theywere in smouldering rebellion and waited only the support of theirgods, when they would fall on this oppressor and hurl him off. 

That, though it left many things unexplained, was all the professorhad been able to gather from his conversation with the leader of theircaptors. He ended, admitting regretfully that he was still inignorance of what fate had befallen Captain Petersen and the crew ofthe _Nereid. _

 * * * * *

"Perhaps this fellow in the other submarine has got them, " suggestedLarry. 

"But why weren't we taken to him too?" asked Diane. "What do yousuppose they want with us, anyway, daddy?"

"That, my dear, as I told you before, " replied her father, "I am notdisposed to conjecture. Time will reveal it. Meanwhile, we can onlywait. "

As before, there was a note of anxiety in his voice not lost on eitherof them. And as for Larry, though he knew but little of those oldreligions, he knew enough to realize that their altars often ran withthe blood of their captives, and he shuddered. 

With these grim thoughts between them, the trio fell silent. 

A silence that was interrupted presently by the arrival of a nativebearing a tray heaped with strange food. 

Bowing, he placed it before them and departed. 

Upon examination, the meal proved to consist mainly of some curiouskind of steamed fish, not unpalatable but rather rank and tough. Therewere several varieties of fungus, too, more or less resemblingmushrooms and doubtless grown in some sunless garden of the pyramid. 

These articles, together with a pitcher of good water that hadobviously been distilled from the sea, comprised their meal, andthough it was far from appetizing, they ate it. 

But none of the three slept that night, though Diane dozed off for afew minutes once or twice, for their apprehension of what the dawnmight hold made it impossible, to say nothing of the closeness of theair in that windowless subterranean room. 

Slowly, wearily, the hours dragged by. 

At length the native who had brought their food came again. This timehe spoke. 

"He says we are now to be taken before the high priests, " ProfessorStevens translated for them. 

Almost with relief, though their faces were grave, they stepped outinto the corridor, where an escort waited. 

 * * * * *

Five minutes later, after proceeding along an inclined gallery thatwound ever upward, they were ushered into a vast vaulted chamber litwith a thousand phosphorescent lamps and gleaming with idols of goldand silver, jewels flashing from their eyes. 

High in the dome hung a great golden disc, representing the sun. Atthe far end, above a marble altar, coiled a dragon with tusks of ivoryand scales of jade, its eyes two lustrous pearls. 

And all about the room thronged priests in fantastic head-dress andlong white robes, woven through elaborately with threads of yellow andgreen. 

At the appearance of the captives, a murmur like a chant rose in thestill air. Someone touched a brand to the altar and there was a flashof flame followed by a thin column of smoke that spiraled slowlyupward. 

Now one of the priests stepped out--the supreme one among them, tojudge from the magnificence of his robe--and addressed the trio, speaking slowly, rhythmically. 

As his strange, sonorous discourse continued, Professor Stevens grewvisibly perturbed. His beard twitched and he shifted uneasily on hisfeet. 

 * * * * *

Finally the discourse ceased and the professor replied to it, briefly. Then he turned grave eyes on Larry and Diane. 

"What is it?" asked the latter, nervously. "What did the priest say, daddy?"

Her father considered, before replying. 

"Naturally, I did not gather everything, " was his slow reply, "but Igathered sufficient to understand what is afoot. First, however, letme explain that the dragon you see over there represents their deityTlaloc, god of the sea. In more happy circumstances, it would beinteresting to note that the name is identified with the Mayan god ofthe same element. "

He paused, as though loath to go on, then continued:

"At any rate, the Antillians have worshipped Tlaloc principally, sincetheir sun god failed them. They believe he dragged down their empirein his mighty coils, through anger with them, and will raise it upagain if appeased. Therefore they propose today to--"

"Daddy!" cried Diane, shrinking back in horror, while a chill went upLarry's spine. "You mean--mean that--"

"I mean, my poor child, that we are about to be sacrificed to thedragon god of the Antillians. "

 * * * * *

The words were no more than uttered, when with a weird chant theCabiri closed in on their victims and led them with solemn ceremonialtoward the altar. 

In vain did Professor Stevens protest. Their decision had been madeand was irrevocable. Tlaloc must be appeased. Lo, even now he roaredfor the offering!

They pointed to the dragon, from whose nostrils suddenly issuedhissing spurts of flame. 

Larry fumed in disgust at the cheap hocus-pocus of it--but the nextmoment a more violent emotion swept over him as he saw Diane seizedand borne swiftly to that loathsome shrine. 

But even as he lunged forward, the professor reached his daughter'sside. Throwing himself in front of her, he begged them to spare her, to sacrifice him instead. 

The answer of the priests was a blow that knocked the graybeardsenseless, and lifting Diane up, half-swooning, they flung her uponthe altar. 

"Mr. Hunter! Larry!" came her despairing cry. 

She struggled up and for a moment her blue eyes opened, met hisbeseechingly. 

That was enough--that and that despairing cry, "Larry!"

With the strength of frenzy, he flung off his captors, rushed to heraid, his hard fists flailing. 

The pigmies went down in his path like grain before the scythe. Reaching the altar, he seized the priest whose knife was alreadyupraised, and, lifting him bodily, flung him full into the ugly snoutof that snorting dragon. 

Then, as a wail of dismay rose from the Cabiri, at this supremesacrilege, he seized the now unconscious Diane and retreated with hertoward the door. 

 * * * * *

But there spears barred his escape; and now, recovered from the firstshock of this fearful affront to their god, the priests started towardhim. 

Standing at bay, with that limp, tender burden in his arms, Larryawaited the end. 

As the maddened horde drew near, she stirred, lifted her pale face andsmiled, her eyes still shut. 

"Oh, Larry!"

"Diane!"

"You saved me. I won't forget. "

Then, the smile still lingering, she slipped once more into mercifuloblivion, and as Larry held her close to his heart, a new warmthkindled there. 

But bitterness burned in his heart, too. He had saved her--won herlove, perhaps--only to lose her. It wasn't fair! Was there no way out?

The priests were close now, their pasty faces leering with fierceanticipation of their revenge, when suddenly, from down the galleryoutside that guarded door, came the sharp crash of an explosion, followed by shouts and the rush of feet. 

At the sound, the priests trembled, fled backward into the room andfell moaning before their idols, while the quaking guards strovefrantically to close the door. 

 * * * * *

But before they could do so, in burst a half dozen brawny sailors inforeign uniform, bearing in their hands little black bulbs that lookedsuspiciously like grenades. Shouting in a tongue Larry could notdistinguish above the uproar, they advanced upon the retreating guardsand priests. 

Then, when all were herded in the far corner of the room, the sailorsbacked toward the door. Motioning for Larry and Diane to clear out, they raised those sinister little missiles, prepared to fling them. 

"Wait!" cried Larry, thinking of Professor Stevens. 

And releasing Diane, who had revived, he rushed forward, seized theprostrate savant from amid the unresisting Cabiri, and bore him tosafety. 

"Daddy!" sobbed Diane, swaying to meet them. 

"Back!" shouted one of the sailors, shoving them through the door. 

The last glimpse Larry had of that fateful room was the horde ofpriests and guards huddled before their altar, voices lifted insupplication to that hideous dragon god. 

Then issued a series of blinding flashes followed by deafeningexplosions, mingled with shrieks of anguish. 

Sickened, he stood there, as the reverberations died away. 

 * * * * *

Presently, when it was plain no further menace would come from thatblasted temple, their rescuers led the trio back down those windinggalleries, and through that long, straight tunnel to the smallerpyramid. 

Professor Stevens had recovered consciousness by now and was able towalk, with Larry's aid, though a matted clot of blood above his leftear showed the force of the blow he had received. 

The way, after reaching the smaller pyramid, led up those othergalleries they had mounted the night before. 

This time, undoubtedly, they were to be taken before that mysterioususurping emperor. And what would be the result of that audience? Wouldit but plunge them from the frying pan into the fire, wondered Larry, or would it mean their salvation?

Anyway, he concluded, no fate could be worse than the hideous one theyhad just escaped. But if only Diane could be spared further anguish!

He glanced at her fondly, as they walked along, and she returned him awarm smile. 

Now the way led into a short, level passage ending in a door guardedby two sailors with rifles. They presented arms, as their comradescame up, and flung open the door. 

As he stepped inside, Larry blinked in amazement, for he was greetedby electric lights in ornate clusters, richly carpeted floors, wallshung with modern paintings--and there at the far end, beside a massivedesk, stood an imposing personage in foreign naval uniform of highrank, strangely familiar, strangely reminiscent of war days. 

Even before the man spoke, in his guttural English, the suspicionthose sailors had aroused crystallized itself. 

A German! A U-boat commander!

 * * * * *

"Greetings, gentlemen--and the little lady, " boomed their host, withheavy affability. "I see that my men were in time. These swine ofAntillians are a tricky lot. I must apologize for them--my subjects. "

The last word was pronounced with scathing contempt. 

"We return greetings!" said Professor Stevens. "To whom, might I ask, do we owe our lives, and the honor of this interview?"

Larry smiled. The old graybeard was up to his form, all right!

"You are addressing Herr Rolf von Ullrich, " the flattered Germanreplied, adding genially: "commander of one of His Imperial Majesty'ssuper-submarines during the late war and at present Emperor ofAntillia. "

To which the professor replied with dignity that he was greatlyhonored to make the acquaintance of so exalted a personage, andproceeded in turn to introduce himself and party. But Von Ullrichchecked him with a smile. 

"The distinguished Professor Stevens and his charming daughter need nointroduction, as they are already familiar to me through the Americanpress and radio, " he said. "While as for Mr. Hunter, your CaptainPetersen has already made me acquainted with his name. "

At the mention of the commander of the _Nereid_, all three of themgave a start. 

"Then--then my captain and crew are safe?" asked the professor, eagerly. 

"Quite, " Von Ullrich assured him. "You will be taken to thempresently. But first there are one or two little things you would likeexplained--yes? Then I shall put to you a proposal, which ifacceptable will guarantee your safe departure from my adoptedcountry. "

Whereupon the German traced briefly the events leading up to thepresent. 

 * * * * *

During the last months of the war, he had been placed in command of aspecial U-boat known as the "mystery ship"--designed to resistdepth-charges and embodying many other innovations, most of themgrowing out of his own experience with earlier submarines. 

One day, while cruising off the West Indies, in wait for some lucklesssugar boat, he had been surprised by a destroyer and forced tosubmerge so suddenly that his diving gear had jammed and they had goneto the bottom. But the craft had managed to withstand the pressure andthey had been able to repair the damage, limping home with a bad leakbut otherwise none the worse for the experience. 

The leak repaired and the hull further strengthened, he had set outagain. But when in mid-Atlantic the Armistice had come, and ratherthan return to a defeated country, subject possibly to Allied revenge, he had persuaded his crew to remain out and let their craft bereported missing. 

What followed then, though Von Ullrich masked it in polite words, wasa story of piracy, until they found by degrees that there was moregold on the bottom of the ocean than the top; and from this to thediscovery of the sunken empire where he now held reign was but a step. 

They had thought at first they were looting only empty temples--but, finding people there, had easily conquered them, though ruling them, he admitted, was another matter. As, for instance, yesterday, when thepriests had interfered with his orders and carried his three chiefcaptives off to sacrifice. 

"Where now, but for me, you would be food for their gods!" he ended. "And if you do not find my hospitality altogether to your liking, friends, remember that you came uninvited. In fact, if you willrecall, you came despite my explicit warning!"

 * * * * *

But since they were here, he told them, they might be willing to repayhis good turn with another. 

Whereupon Von Ullrich launched into his proposal, which was thatProfessor Stevens place the _Nereid_ at his disposal for visiting thedepths at the foot of the plateau, where lay the capital of theempire, he said--a magnificent metropolis known as the City of the Sunand modeled after the great Atlantean capital, the City of the GoldenGates, and the depository of a treasure, the greedy German believed, that was the ransom of the world. 

The professor frowned, and for a moment Larry thought he was going toremind their host that this was not a treasure hunt. 

"Why, " he asked instead, "do you not use your own submarine for thepurpose?"

"Because for one thing, she will not stand the pressure, nor will oursuits, " was the reply. "And for another, she is already laden withtreasure, ready for an--er--forced abdication!" with a sardonic laugh. 

"Then have you not enough gold already?"

"For myself, yes. But there are my men, you see--and men who haveglimpsed the treasures of the earth are not easily satisfied, Professor. But have no fear. You shall accompany us, and, by your aid, shall pay your own ransom. "

 * * * * *

Von Ullrich made no mention of the alternative, in case the aid wasrefused, but the ominous light Larry caught in his cold gray eyesspoke as clearly as words. 

So, since there was nothing else to do, Professor Stevens agreed. 

Whereupon the audience terminated and they were led from the presenceof this arrogant German to another apartment, where they were to meetCaptain Petersen and the crew of the _Nereid. _

As they proceeded toward it, under guard, Larry wondered why VonUllrich had even troubled to make the request, when he held it in hispower to take the craft anyway. 

But after the first joyful moment of reunion, it was a mystery nolonger, for Captain Petersen reported that immediately upon theircapture, the commander of the U-boat had tried to force him to revealthe operation of the _Nereid_, but that he had steadfastly refused, even though threatened with torture. 

And to think, it came to Larry with a new twinge of shame, that he hadsuspected this gallant man of mutiny!

 * * * * *

That very morning, while Professor Stevens and his party were stillexchanging experiences with Captain Petersen and the members of thecrew, Von Ullrich sent for them and they gathered with his own men inthe small lock-chamber at the base of the pyramid. 

There they were provided with temporary suits by their host, sincetheir own--which they brought along--could be inflated only from the_Nereid_. 

Beside her, they noted as they emerged in relays, the U-boat was nowmoored. 

Entering their own craft, they got under way at once and headedswiftly westward toward the brink of the plateau. Most of VonUllrich's crew were with them, though a few had been left behind toguard against any treachery, on the part of the now sullen and arousedpopulace. 

Slipping out over the edge of that precipitous tableland, they tiltedher rudders and dove to the abysm below. 

Presently the central square of the illuminated panel in thenavigating room showed three great concentric circles, enclosed by aquadrangle that must have been miles on a side--and within this vastsunken fortress lay a city of innumerable pyramids and temples andpalaces. 

The German's eyes flashed greedily as he peered upon this vision. 

"There you are!" he exclaimed, quivering with excitement. "Thosecircles, that square: what would you judge they were, Professor?"

"I would judge that originally they were the canals bearing themunicipal water supply, " Martin Stevens told him quietly, suppressinghis own excitement, "for such was said to be the construction of theCity of the Golden Gates; but now I judge they are walls raised onthose original foundations by the frantic populace, when thesubmergence first began, in a vain effort to hold back the tides thatengulfed them. "

"And do you think they are of gold?"

"Frankly, no; though I have no doubt you will find plenty of thatelement down there. "

Nor was the prediction wrong, for modern eyes had never seen such atreasure house as they beheld when presently the _Nereid_ came to restoutside that ancient four-walled city and they forced their wayinside. 

 * * * * *

Though the walls were not of gold, the inner gates were, and thetemples were fairly bursting with the precious metal, as well as rarejewels, the eyes of a thousand idols gleaming with rubies andemeralds. 

But where was the populace, amid all this prodigious wealth? Was thereno life down here?

Von Ullrich declared through the vibrator of his pressure-suit that hehad heard there was. And as though in substantiation, many of thetemples showed the same bell-jar construction as the pyramids above, though even stouter, revealing evidences of having been occupied veryrecently; but all were flooded and empty. The city was as a city ofthe dead. 

This ominous sign did not deter the "emperor, " however. Ruthlessly heand his men looted those flooded temples, forcing Professor Stevensand his party to lend aid in the orgy of pillage. 

And all the time, Larry had an uneasy feeling of gathering furtivehosts about them, waiting--waiting for what?

He confided his fears to no one, though he noted with relief that VonUllrich seemed to sense these unseen presences too, for he proceededwith caution and always kept a strong guard outside. 

 * * * * *

By early afternoon, the _Nereid_ was one great coffer-chest. 

But still the rapacious U-boat commander was unsatisfied, thoughProfessor Stevens began to have doubts if his craft could lift thatmassive weight of plunder to the top of the plateau. 

"One more load and we go, " he soothed. "A few more pretties for thelittle lady!"

Larry writhed, and should have suspected then and there--but as itwas, the blow fell unexpected, stunning. 

Filing from the lock, they failed to notice that Von Ullrich and hiscrew hung back, until there came a sudden, guttural command, whereuponDiane was seized and the massive door flung shut in their faces. 

Appalled by this overwhelming disaster, the party stood for a momentmotionless, speechless. Then, as one, Larry and the professor rushedforward and beat upon that barred hatch, calling upon Von Ullrich toopen it. 

From within the submarine, through their vibrators, they heard himlaugh. 

"_Auf Wiedersehen!_" he toasted them. "I now have all the treasure Iwant! The rest I leave to you! Help yourselves!"

Even as he spoke, the _Nereid's_ auxiliary propellers started churningthe water. Slowly, sluggishly, like some great gorged fish, the sturdycraft moved off, lifted her snout, headed upward. 

 * * * * *

Professor Stevens bowed his head, and Larry could well picture thegrief that distorted the graybeard's face, inside that owl-eyedhelmet. 

"Cheer up!" he said, though his own face was twisted with anguish. "Perhaps--"

Then he paused--for how could he say that perhaps the situation wasn'tas bad as it seemed, when it was obviously hopeless?

"My poor Diane!" moaned the professor. "Poor child. Poor child!"

As for Captain Petersen and the crew, they said nothing. Perhaps theywere thinking of Diane, perhaps of themselves. At least, they knew itwas over. 

Or so they thought. But to Larry, suddenly, occurred a gleam of hope. That strange sense of unseen presences! It was bizarre, of course, butdoesn't a drowning person catch at straws? And Lord knows they weredrowning, if ever anyone was!

He turned and confided to Professor Stevens his idea, which was toretrace their steps within the city gates, seek out the populace andthrow themselves on their mercy. 

The stricken savant, too, grasped at the straw. 

"It seems fantastic, but after all it is a chance, " he admitted. 

So they pushed back into that great submerged city, with CaptainPetersen and his skeptical crew. They entered one of the largest ofthe temples, wandered forlornly through its flooded halls andcorridors, seeking some sign of these alleged beings Larry had sensed. 

Nor was their search unrewarded, for suddenly the captain himself, most skeptical of all, cried out:

"Listen! Did you hear that?"

There was no need to ask the question, for all had heard. It was arasping sound, as of some great door swinging shut, followed almostimmediately by a rushing gurgle--and as they stood there tense, thewater level began rapidly receding. 

Even while it was still plashing about their ankles, a secret block ofmasonry slid back and a horde of Antillians burst in upon them. 

 * * * * *

What happened then, happened with a rush that left them dazed. 

Unable to talk directly with the pigmies, by reason of theirpressure-suits, which they dared not remove, they started gesturingwith them, trying to explain their predicament and make known thatthey bore them no ill-will, but the creatures waved for them to ceaseand led them swiftly through the now waterless temple. 

"Well, I guess it's all up!" said Larry, adding with dismal humor:"They're probably going to finish that meal they started feeding theirdragon last night!"

No one laughed, nor made any comment, and he relapsed into silence, realizing that they probably held him responsible for this latestdisaster. 

Leaving the temple, their captors led them into a passage that waslevel for a time, then inclined sharply. It was laborious going butthey struggled on. 

"I believe they know we are not their enemies!" declared ProfessorStevens, at length, to everyone's cheer. "They seem to be leading usback to the plateau by some underground passage. "

"Let's hope so!" said Larry. "Perhaps I had the right hunch afterall. "

"But my poor Diane!" came the professor's sorrowing after-thought. "That fiend Von Ullrich could never get the _Nereid_ up safely. "

"I think perhaps he could, with Miss Stevens to help him, " put inCaptain Petersen, his usual optimism returning. "She is thoroughlyfamiliar with the craft's operation. "

"That is so, " her father admitted, his tone brighter. "But--"

"Of course it's so!" exclaimed Larry, breaking off any less hopefulreflections. "So cheerio, folks, as the English say. We'll make ityet!"

But in his heart, he was tormented with doubt for Diane's safety. .. . 

 * * * * *

The trail was growing eery, now, and precipitous. To their right rosea sheer cliff. To their left, the path fell off abruptly to a giganticcaldron where red flames leaped and waned. 

"Looks like something out of Dante's 'Inferno'!" muttered Larry, witha shudder. 

"The volcano where they distill their atmosphere, evidently, "commented Professor Stevens. "It would have been interesting, in othercircumstances, to observe the process. "

"Not to me, it wouldn't!"

Larry was glad when they had passed that seething hell-pot and wereonce more proceeding through a long, dark gallery. 

But everywhere, though their guides were but a handful, was a sense ofthose unseen presences, of gathering, furtive hosts about them, waiting--waiting for what?

What was this strange sense of tension, of foreboding, that hung inthe air? Was the professor wrong? Were they being led to their doom, after all?

He was soon to know, for now the gallery they had been traversinglevelled out into a series of short passages, each barred by a heavystone door, and finally they were led into a small, square room, barely large enough to admit them all. 

There, with gestures toward the far end, their guides left them. 

The door closed, and almost immediately another on the opposite sideopened, slowly at first, then wider and wider, admitting a rush ofwater that promptly filled the room. 

Stepping wonderingly out, they found themselves on the upper level, beside the second of the two smaller pyramids. 

 * * * * *

"Whew!" gasped Larry, as they stood looking around, still a littledazed. "These people are sure quick-change artists! First they try tofeed you to their gods, then they save you from almost as bad a fate. Dizzy, I call it!"

"Quite understandable, I should say, " declared the professor. "Unableto cope with Von Ullrich themselves, they think perhaps we may be ableto. "

"Well, let's hope they're right!" grimly. "If once I get my hands onhim--"

He broke off suddenly, as Captain Petersen called out:

"The _Nereid_! There she is!"

Following with their eyes the bright segment cut into the murky depthsby his flashlight, they saw the familiar outlines of their craft; andclose beside her lay the U-boat. 

A feverish activity seemed to be going on between the two submarines. 

"They're changing cargo!" cried Larry. "Quick! We've got them now!"

But the progress they were able to make, hampered by their heavysuits, was maddeningly slow. Their searchlights, moreover, betrayedtheir approach. Before they could reach the scene, most of the sailorshad abandoned their task and piled into the U-boat. 

Arms swinging wildly, Von Ullrich stood beside it, trying to rallythen. Refusing to risk combat, however, since they were unable to usetheir deadly hand-grenades under water, they continued clambering upthe sides of their submersible and shoving down through itsconning-tower hatch. 

Now a figure in a familiar pressure-suit broke away and started towardthe advancing party. 

It was Diane!

 * * * * *

Even as he recognized her, Larry saw Von Ullrich lunge forward, seizehis captive and mount to the conning-tower with her--but before theGerman could thrust her into the hatch, he had reached the U-boat'sside and clambered to her rescue. 

Dropping Diane, Von Ullrich wheeled to face his assailant. Theygrappled, fell to the deck, rolled over and over. 

But suddenly, as they were struggling, there came a sound that causedthe German to burst free and leap to his feet. 

It was the sound of engines under them!

Ignoring Larry now, Von Ullrich staggered to the conning-tower hatch. It was battened fast. Frantically he beat on it. 

This much Larry saw, as he knelt there getting his breath. Then herose, took Diane by the arm and led her down. And he was none toosoon, for with a lunge the U-boat got under way. 

But she seemed unable to lift her loot-laden mass from the oceanfloor, and headed off crazily across the plateau, dragging her keel inthe sand. 

With fascinated horror, they watched the craft's erratic course, as itswung loggily westward and headed toward that yawning abysm from whichthey had all so lately risen. 

The last sight they had of the U-boat was as it reached the brink, itsdespairing commander still standing in the conning-tower, hammeringvainly on that fast-bound hatch; then they turned away faint, as thedoomed craft plunged down, stern up, into those crushing depths. 

 * * * * *

Professor Stevens now joined them. 

"A lesson in avarice, " he said gravely, when he had greeted hisdaughter with heartfelt relief. "And a typical fate of fortunehunters! Let that be a lesson to you, young man. "

"Amen!" said Larry. 

"But what happened, my dear?" asked the professor of Diane, a momentlater. "Why were they in such a hurry to be off?"

"Because the sensible Antillians seized their opportunity and overcametheir guards, while we were below, " was her reply. "When we got back, we found the pyramids flooded, so there was nothing else for them todo but go. "

So that was the explanation of those gathering, furtive hosts in thelower level, thought Larry. Now he knew what they had been waitingfor! They had been waiting for that usurping vandal to depart. 

And how they must be gloating now, down there!

"But why were they so eager to abandon the _Nereid_?" asked thesavant, still puzzled. "It it a better boat than theirs, even if I dosay so myself. "

"Because I put it out of commission, directly we got back up here, "replied Diane. "But not permanently!" she added, with what Larry knewwas a smile, though he couldn't see her face, of course, through thehelmet of her pressure-suit. 

"Little thoroughbred!" he exclaimed, half to himself. 

"What did you say, Mr. Hunter?--Larry, I mean, " she inquired. 

"N--nothing, " he replied uneasily. 

"Fibber!" said Diane. "I heard you the first time!"

"Just wait till I get out of this darned suit!" said Larry. 

"I guess I can wait that long!" she told him. 

And if Professor Stevens heard any of this, it went in one ear and outthe other, for he was thinking what a report he would have to make tohis confrères when they got home--particularly with half a boatloadof assorted idols for proof. 

[Illustration: He pressed the tiny switch in the flame-tool's handlejust as Arlok came through the door. ]

The Gate to Xoran

_By Hal K. Wells_

 A strange man of metal comes to Earth on a dreadful mission. 

He sat in a small half-darkened booth well over in the corner--the manwith the strangely glowing blue-green eyes. 

The booth was one of a score that circled the walls of the "MaoriHut, " a popular night club in the San Fernando Valley some five milesover the hills from Hollywood. 

It was nearly midnight. Half a dozen couples danced lazily in thecentral dancing space. Other couples remained tête-à-tête in thesecluded booths. 

In the entire room only two men were dining alone. One was the slendergray-haired little man with the weirdly glowing eyes. The other wasBlair Gordon, a highly successful young attorney of Los Angeles. Bothmen had the unmistakable air of waiting for someone. 

Blair Gordon's college days were not so far distant that he had yetlost any of the splendid physique that had made him an All-Americantackle. In any physical combat with the slight gray-haired stranger, Gordon knew that he should be able to break the other in two with onehand. 

Yet, as he studied the stranger from behind the potted palms thatscreened his own booth. Gordon was amazed to find himself slowly beingovercome by an emotion of dread so intense that it verged upon sheerfear. There was something indescribably alien and utterly sinister inthat dimly seen figure in the corner booth. 

The faint eery light that glowed in the stranger's deep-set eyes wasnot the lambent flame seen in the chatoyant orbs of somenight-prowling jungle beast. Rather was it the blue-green glow ofphosphorescent witch-light that flickers and dances in the night mistsabove steaming tropical swamps. 

The stranger's face was as classically perfect in its rugged outlineas that of a Roman war-god, yet those perfect features seemed utterlylifeless. In the twenty minutes that he had been intently watching thestranger, Gordon would have sworn that the other's face had not movedby so much as the twitch of an eye-lash. 

 * * * * *

Then a new couple entered the Maori Hut, and Gordon promptly forgotall thought of the puzzlingly alien figure in the corner. The newarrivals were a vibrantly beautiful blond girl and a plump, sallow-faced man in the early forties. The girl was Leah Keith, Hollywood's latest screen sensation. The man was Dave Redding, herdirector. 

A waiter seated Leah and her escort in a booth directly across theroom from that of Gordon. It was a maneuver for which Gordon hadtipped lavishly when he first came to the Hut. 

A week ago Leah Keith's engagement to Blair Gordon had been abruptlyended by a trivial little quarrel that two volatile temperaments hadfanned into flames which apparently made reconciliation impossible. Amiserably lonely week had finally ended in Gordon's present trip tothe Maori Hut. He knew that Leah often came there, and he had anoverwhelming longing to at least see her again, even though his prideforced him to remain unseen. 

Now, as he stared glumly at Leah through the palms that effectivelyscreened his own booth, Gordon heartily regretted that he had evercome. The sight of Leah's clear fresh beauty merely made him realizewhat a fool he had been to let that ridiculous little quarrel comebetween them. 

Then, with a sudden tingling thrill, Gordon realized that he was notthe only one in the room who was interested in Leah and her escort. 

Over in the half-darkened corner booth the eery stranger was staringat the girl with an intentness that made his weird eyes glow likeminiature pools of shimmering blue-green fire. Again Gordon felt thatvague impression of dread, as though he were in the presence ofsomething utterly alien to all human experience. 

 * * * * *

Gordon turned his gaze back to Leah, then caught his breath sharply insudden amaze. The necklace about Leah's throat was beginning to glowwith the same uncanny blue-green light that shone in the stranger'seyes! Faint, yet unmistakable, the shimmering radiance pulsed from thenecklace in an aura of nameless evil. 

And with the coming of that aura of weird light at her throat, astrange trance was swiftly sweeping over Leah. She sat there now asrigidly motionless as some exquisite statue of ivory and jet. 

Gordon stared at her in stark bewilderment. He knew the history ofLeah's necklace. It was merely an oddity, and nothing more--a freakpiece of costume jewelry made from fragments of an Arizona meteorite. Leah had worn the necklace a dozen times before, without any trace ofthe weird phenomena that were now occurring. 

Dancers again thronged the floor to the blaring jazz of the negroorchestra while Gordon was still trying to force his whirling brain toa decision. He was certain that Leah was in deadly peril of some kind, yet the nature of that peril was too bizarre for his mind to imagine. 

Then the stranger with the glowing eyes took matters into his ownhands. He left his booth and began threading his way through thedancers toward Leah. As he watched the progress of that slightgray-haired figure Gordon refused to believe the evidence of his owneyes. The thing was too utterly absurd--yet Gordon was positive thatthe strong oak floor of the dancing space was visibly swaying andcreaking beneath the stranger's mincing tread!

 * * * * *

The stranger paused at Leah's booth only long enough to utter a brieflow-voiced command. Then Leah, still in the grip of that strangetrance, rose obediently from her seat to accompany him. 

Dave Redding rose angrily to intercept her. The stranger seemed tobarely brush the irate director with his finger tips, yet Reddingreeled back as though struck by a pile-driver. Leah and the strangerstarted for the door. Redding scrambled to his feet again and hurriedafter them. 

It was then that Gordon finally shook off the stupor of utterbewilderment that had held him. Springing from his booth, he rushedafter the trio. 

The dancers in his way delayed Gordon momentarily. Leah and thestranger were already gone when he reached the door. The narrow littleentrance hallway to the Hut was deserted save for a figure sprawledthere on the floor near the outer door. 

It was the body of Dave Redding. Gordon shuddered as he glancedbriefly down at the huddled figure. A single mighty blow from someunknown weapon had crumpled the director's entire face in, like theshattered shell of a broken egg. 

 * * * * *

Gordon charged on through the outer door just as a heavy sedan camecareening out of the parking lot. He had a flashing glimpse of Leahand the stranger in the front seat of the big car. 

Gordon raced for his own machine, a powerful low-slung roadster. Asingle vicious jab at the starting button, and the big motor leapedinto roaring life. Gordon shot out from the parking lot onto the mainboulevard. A hundred yards away the sedan was fleeing towardHollywood. 

Gordon tramped hard on the accelerator. His engine snarled with theunleashed fury of a hundred horsepower. The gap between the two carsswiftly lessened. 

Then the stranger seemed to become aware for the first time that hewas being followed. The next second the big sedan accelerated with thehurtling speed of a flying bullet. Gordon sent his own foot nearly tothe floor. The roadster jumped to eighty miles an hour, yet the sedancontinued to leave it remorselessly behind. 

The two cars started up the northern slope of Cahuenga Pass with thesedan nearly two hundred yards ahead, and gaining all the time. Gordonwondered briefly if they were to flash down the other side of the Passand on into Hollywood at their present mad speed. 

Then at the summit of the Pass the sedan swerved abruptly to the rightand fled west along the Mulholland Highway. Gordon's tires screamed ashe swerved the roadster in hot pursuit. 

 * * * * *

The dark winding mountain highway was nearly deserted at that hour ofthe night. Save for an occasional automobile that swerved franticallyto the side of the road to dodge the roaring onslaught of the racingcars, Gordon and the stranger had the road to themselves. 

The stranger seemed no longer to be trying to leave his pursuerhopelessly behind. He allowed Gordon to come within a hundred yards ofhim. But that was as near as Gordon could get, is spite of theroadster's best efforts. 

Half a dozen times Gordon trod savagely upon his accelerator in adesperate attempt to close the gap, but each time the sedan fled withthe swift grace of a scudding phantom. Finally Gordon had to contenthimself with merely keeping his distance behind the glowing redtail-light of the car ahead. 

They passed Laurel Canyon, and still the big sedan bored on to thewest. Then finally, half a dozen miles beyond Laurel Canyon, thestranger abruptly left the main highway and started up a narrowprivate road to the crest of one of the lonely hills. Gordon slowlygained in the next two miles. When the road ended in a windinggravelled driveway into the grounds of what was apparently a privateestate, the roadster was scarcely a dozen yards behind. 

The stranger's features as he stood there stiffly erect in the vividglare of the roadster's headlights were still as devoid of allexpression as ever. The only things that really seemed alive in thatmasque of a face were the two eyes, glowing eery blue-green fire liketwin entities of alien evil. 

Gordon wasted no time in verbal sparring. He motioned briefly to LeahKeith's rigid form in the front seat of the sedan. 

"Miss Keith is returning to Hollywood with me, " he said curtly. "Willyou let her go peaceably, or shall I--?" He left the questionunfinished, but its threat was obvious. 

"Or shall you do what?" asked the stranger quietly. There was an oddlymetallic ring in his low even tones. His words were so preciselyclipped that they suggested some origin more mechanical than human. 

"Or shall I take Miss Keith with me by force?" Gordon flared angrily. 

"You can try to take the lady by force--if you wish. " There was anunmistakable jeering note in the metallic tones. 

The taunt was the last thing needed to unleash Gordon's volatiletemper. He stepped forward and swung a hard left hook for thatexpressionless masque of a face. But the blow never landed. Thestranger dodged with uncanny swiftness. His answering gesture seemedmerely the gentlest possible push with an outstretched hand, yetGordon was sent reeling backward a full dozen steps by the terrificforce of that apparently gentle blow. 

 * * * * *

Recovering himself, Gordon grimly returned to the attack. The strangeragain flung out one hand in the contemptuous gesture with which onewould brush away a troublesome fly, but this time Gordon was morecautious. He neatly dodged the stranger's blow, then swung a viciousright squarely for his adversary's unprotected jaw. 

The blow smashed solidly home with all of Gordon's weight behind it. The stranger's jaw buckled and gave beneath that shattering impact. Then abruptly his entire face crumpled into distorted ruin. Gordonstaggered back a step in sheer horror at the gruesome result of hisblow. 

The stranger flung a hand up to his shattered features. When his handcame away again, his whole face came away with it!

Gordon had one horror-stricken glimpse of a featureless blob ofrubbery bluish-gray flesh in which fiendish eyes of blue-green fireblazed in malignant fury. 

Then the stranger fumbled at his collar, ripping the linen swiftlyaway. Something lashed out from beneath his throat--a loathsomesnake-like object, slender and forked at the end. For one ghastlymoment, as the writhing tentacle swung into line with him, Gordon sawits forked ends glow strange fire--one a vivid blue, the other asparkling green. 

Then the world was abruptly blotted out for Blair Gordon. 

 * * * * *

Consciousness returned to Gordon as swiftly and painlessly as it hadleft him. For a moment he blinked stupidly in a dazed effort tocomprehend the incredible scene before him. 

He was seated in a chair over near the wall of a large room that wasflooded with livid red light from a single globe overhead. Beside himsat Leah Keith, also staring with dazed eyes in an effort tocomprehend her surroundings. Directly in front of them stood a figureof stark nightmare horror. 

The weirdly glowing eyes identified the figure as that of the strangerat the Maori Hut, but there every point of resemblance ceased. Onlythe cleverest of facial masques and body padding could ever haveenabled this monstrosity to pass unnoticed in a world of normal humanbeings. 

Now that his disguise was completely stripped away, his slight framewas revealed as a grotesque parody of that of a human being, with armsand legs like pipe-stems, a bald oval head that merged with necklessrigidity directly into a heavy-shouldered body that tapered into analmost wasp-like slenderness at the waist. He was naked save for aloin cloth of some metallic fabric. His bluish-gray skin had a dulloily sheen strangely suggestive of fine grained flexible metal. 

The creature's face was hideously unlike anything human. Beneath theglowing eyes was a small circular mouth orifice with a cluster ofgill-like appendages on either side of it. Patches of lighter-coloredskin on either side of the head seemed to serve as ears. From a pointjust under the head, where the throat of a human being would havebeen, dangled the foot-and-a-half long tentacle whose forked tip hadsent Gordon into oblivion. 

Behind the creature Gordon was dimly aware of a maze of complicatedand utterly unfamiliar apparatus ranged along the opposite wall, giving the room the appearance of being a laboratory of some kind. 

 * * * * *

Gordon's obvious bewilderment seemed to amuse the bluish-graymonstrosity. "May I introduce myself?" he asked with a mocking note inhis metallic voice. "I am Arlok of Xoran. I am an explorer of Space, and more particularly an Opener of Gates. My home is upon Xoran, whichis one of the eleven major planets that circle about the giantblue-white sun that your astronomers call Rigel. I am here to open theGate between your world and mine. "

Gordon reached a reassuring hand over to Leah. All memory of theirquarrel was obliterated in the face of their present peril. He felther slender fingers twine firmly with his. The warm contact gave themboth new courage. 

"We of Xoran need your planet and intend to take possession of it, "Arlok continued, "but the vast distance which separates Rigel fromyour solar system makes it impracticable to transport any considerablenumber of our people here in space-cars for, though our space-carstravel with practically the speed of light, it requires over fivehundred and forty years for them to cross that great void. So I wassent as a lone pioneer to your Earth to do the work necessary here inorder to open the Gate that will enable Xoran to cross the barrier inless than a minute of your time. 

 * * * * *

"That gate is the one through the fourth dimension, for Xoran and yourplanet in a four-dimensional universe are almost touching each otherin spite of the great distance separating them in a three-dimensionaluniverse. We of Xoran, being three-dimensional creatures like youEarthlings, can not even exist on a four-dimensional plane. But wecan, by the use of apparatus to open a Gate, pass through a thinsector of the fourth dimension and emerge in a far distant part of ourthree-dimensional universe. 

"The situation of our two worlds, " Arlok continued, "is somewhat likethat of two dots on opposite ends of a long strip of paper that iscurved almost into a circle. To two-dimensional beings capable only ofrealizing and traveling along the two dimensions of the paper itselfthose dots might be many feet apart, yet in the third dimensionstraight across free space they might be separated by only thethousandth part of an inch. In order to take that short cut across thethird dimension the two-dimensional creatures of the paper would haveonly to transform a small strip of the intervening space into atwo-dimensional surface like their paper. 

"They could, do this, of course, by the use of propervibration-creating machinery, for all things in a material universeare merely a matter of vibration. We of Xoran plan to cross thebarrier of the fourth dimension by creating a narrow strip ofvibrations powerful enough to exactly match and nullify those of thefourth dimension itself. The result will be that this narrow stripwill temporarily become an area of three dimensions only, an area overwhich we can safely pass from our world to yours. "

 * * * * *

Arlok indicated one of the pieces of apparatus along the opposite wallof the room. It was an intricate arrangement of finely wound coilswith wires leading to scores of needle-like points which constantlyshimmered and crackled with tiny blue-white flames. Thick cables ranto a bank of concave reflectors of some gleaming grayish metal. 

"There is the apparatus which will supply the enormous power necessaryto nullify the vibrations of the fourth dimensional barrier, " Arlokexplained. "It is a condenser and adapter of the cosmic force that youcall the Millikan rays. In Xoran a similar apparatus is already set upand finished, but the Gate can only be opened by simultaneous actionsfrom both sides of the barrier. That is why I was sent on my longjourney through space to do the necessary work here. I am now nearlyfinished. A very few hours more will see the final opening of theGate. Then the fighting hordes of Xoran can sweep through the barrierand overwhelm your planet. 

"When the Gate from Xoran to a new planet is first opened, " Arlokcontinued, "our scientists always like to have at least one pair ofspecimens of the new world's inhabitants sent through to them forexperimental use. So to-night, while waiting for one of my finalcastings to cool, I improved the time by making a brief raid upon theplace that you call the Maori Hut. The lady here seemed an excellenttype of your Earthling women, and the meteoric iron in her necklacemade a perfect focus for electric hypnosis. Her escort was tooinferior a specimen to be of value to me so I killed him when heattempted to interfere. When you gave chase I lured you on until Icould see whether you might be usable. You proved an excellentspecimen, so I merely stunned you. Very soon now I shall be ready tosend the two of you through the Gate to our scientists in Xoran. "

 * * * * *

A cold wave of sheer horror swept over Gordon. It was impossible todoubt the stark and deadly menace promised in the plan of this grimvisitor from an alien universe--a menace that loomed not only forGordon and Leah but for the teeming millions of a doomed anddefenseless world. 

"Let me show you Xoran, " Arlok offered. "Then you may be better ableto understand. " He turned his back carelessly upon his two captivesand strode over to the apparatus along the opposite wall. 

Gordon longed to hurl himself upon the unprotected back of theretreating Xoranian, but he knew that any attempt of that kind wouldbe suicidal. Arlok's deadly tentacle would strike him down before hewas halfway across the room. 

He searched his surroundings with desperate eyes for anything thatmight serve as a weapon. Then his pulse quickened with sudden hope. There on a small table near Leah was the familiar bulk of a . 45calibre revolver, loaded and ready for use. It was included in amiscellaneous collection of other small earthly tools and objects thatArlok had apparently collected for study. 

There was an excellent chance that Leah might be able to secure thegun unobserved. Gordon pressed her fingers in a swift attempt atsignalling, then jerked his head ever so slightly toward the table. Amoment later the quick answering pressure of Leah's fingers told himthat she had understood his message. From the corner of his eye Gordonsaw Leah's other hand begin cautiously groping behind her for therevolver. 

 * * * * *

Then both Gordon and Leah froze into sudden immobility as Arlok facedthem again from beside an apparatus slightly reminiscent of an earthlyradio set. Arlok threw a switch, and a small bank of tubes glowed palegreen. A yard-square plate of bluish-gray metal on the wall above theapparatus glowed with milky fluorescence. 

"It is easy to penetrate the barrier with light waves, " Arlokexplained. "That is a Gate that can readily be opened from eitherside. It was through it that we first discovered your Earth. "

Arlok threw a rheostat on to more power. The luminous plate clearedswiftly. "And there, Earthlings, is Xoran!" Arlok said proudly. 

Leah and Gordon gasped in sheer amaze as the glowing plate became averitable window into another world--a world of utter and alienterror. 

The livid light of a giant red sun blazed mercilessly down upon alandscape from which every vestige of animal and plant life hadapparently been stripped. Naked rocks and barren soil stretchedillimitably to the far horizon in a vast monotony of utter desolation. 

Arlok twirled the knob of the apparatus, and another scene flashedinto view. In this scene great gleaming squares and cones of metalrose in towering clusters from the starkly barren land. Hordes ofcreatures like Arlok swarmed in and around the metal buildings. Giantmachines whirled countless wheels in strange tasks. From a thousandgreat needle-like projections on the buildings spurted shimmeringsheets of crackling flame, bathing the entire scene in a whirling mistof fiery vapors. 

Gordon realized dimly that he must be looking into one of the citiesof Xoran, but every detail of the chaotic whirl of activity was tooutterly unfamiliar to carry any real significance to his bewilderedbrain. He was as hopelessly overwhelmed as an African savage would beif transported suddenly into the heart of Times Square. 

 * * * * *

Arlok again twirled the knob. The scene shifted, apparently to anotherplanet. This world was still alive, with rich verdure and swarmingmillions of people strangely like those of Earth. But it was a doomedworld. The dread Gate to Xoran had already been opened here. Legionsof bluish-gray Xoranians were attacking the planet's inhabitants, andthe attack of those metallic hosts was irresistible. 

The slight bodies of the Xoranians seemed as impervious to bullets andmissiles as though armor-plated. The frantic defense of thebeleaguered people of the doomed planet caused hardly a casualty inthe Xoranian ranks. 

The attack of the Xoranians was hideously effective. Clouds of denseyellow fog belched from countless projectors in the hands of thebluish-gray hosts, and beneath that deadly miasma all animal and plantlife on the doomed planet was crumbling, dying, and rotting into aliquid slime. Then even the slime was swiftly obliterated, and theXoranians were left triumphant upon a world starkly desolate. 

"That was one of the minor planets in the swarm that make up the solarsystem of the sun that your astronomers call Canopus, " Arlokexplained. "Our first task in conquering a world is to rid it of theunclean surface scum of animal and plant life. When this noxioussurface mold is eliminated, the planet is then ready to furnish ussustenance, for we Xoranians live directly upon the metallic elementsof the planet itself. Our bodies are of a substance of which yourscientists have never even dreamed--deathless, invincible, livingmetal!"

 * * * * *

Arlok again twirled the control of the apparatus and the scene wasshifted back to the planet of Xoran, this time to the interior of whatwas apparently a vast laboratory. Here scores of Xoranian scientistswere working upon captives who were pathetically like human beings ofEarth itself, working with lethal gases and deadly liquids as humanscientists might experiment upon noxious pests. The details of thescene were so utterly revolting, the tortures that were beinginflicted so starkly horrible, that Leah and Gordon sank back in theirchairs sick and shaken. 

Arlok snapped off a switch, and the green light in the tubes died. "That last scene was the laboratory to which I shall send you twopresently, " he said callously as he started back across the roomtoward them. 

Gordon lurched to his feet, his brain a seething whirl of hate inwhich all thought of caution was gone as he tensed his muscles to hurlhimself upon that grim monstrosity from the bleak and desolate realmof Xoran. 

Then he felt Leah tugging surreptitiously at his right hand. The nextmoment the bulk of something cold and hard met his fingers. It was therevolver. Leah had secured it while Arlok was busy with hisinter-dimensional televisor. 

Arlok was rapidly approaching them. Gordon hoped against hope that themenace of that deadly tentacle might be diverted for the fraction of asecond necessary for him to get in a crippling shot. Leah seemed todivine his thought. She suddenly screamed hysterically and flungherself on the floor almost at Arlok's feet. 

 * * * * *

Arlok stopped in obvious wonder and bent over Leah. Gordon tookinstant advantage of the Xoranian's diverted attention. He whipped therevolver from behind him and fired point-blank at Arlok's unprotectedhead. 

The bullet struck squarely, but Arlok was not even staggered. A tinyspot of bluish-gray skin upon his oval skull gleamed faintly for amoment under the bullet's impact. Then the heavy pellet of lead, asthoroughly flattened as though it had struck the triple armor of abattleship, dropped spent and harmless to the floor. 

Arlok straightened swiftly. For the moment he seemed to have nothought of retaliating with his deadly tentacle. He merely stood therequite still with one thin arm thrown up to guard his glowing eyes. 

Gordon sent the remainder of the revolver's bullets crashing home asfast as his finger could press the trigger. At that murderously shortrange the smashing rain of lead should have dropped a charginggorilla. But for all the effect Gordon's shots had upon the Xoranian, his ammunition might as well have been pellets of paper. Arlok'sglossy hide merely, glowed momentarily in tiny patches as the bulletsstruck and flattened harmlessly--and that was all. 

His last cartridge fired, Gordon flung the empty weapon squarely atthe blue monstrosity's hideous face. Arlok made no attempt to dodge. The heavy revolver struck him high on the forehead, then reboundedharmlessly to the floor. Arlok paid no more attention to the blow thana man would to the casual touch of a wind-blown feather. 

Gordon desperately flung himself forward upon the Xoranian in one lastmad effort to overwhelm him. Arlok dodged Gordon's wild blows, thengently swept the Earth man into the embrace of his thin arms. For onehelpless moment Gordon sensed the incredible strength and adamantinehardness of the Xoranian's slender figure, together with anoverwhelming impression of colossal weight in that deceptively slightbody. 

 * * * * *

Then Arlok contemptuously flung Gordon away from him. As Gordonstaggered backward, Arlok's tentacle lashed upward and levelled uponhim. Its twin tips again glowed brilliant green and livid blue. Instantly every muscle in Gordon's body was paralyzed. He stood thereas rigid as a statue, his body completely deadened from the neck down. Beside him stood Leah, also frozen motionless in that same weirdpower. 

"Earthling, you are beginning to try my patience, " Arlok snapped. "Canyou not realize that I am utterly invincible in any combat with you?The living metal of my body weighs over sixteen hundred pounds, as youmeasure weight. The strength inherent in that metal is sufficient totear a hundred of your Earth men to shreds. But I do not even have totouch you to vanquish you. The electric content of my bodily structureis so infinitely superior to yours that with this tentacle-organ ofmine I can instantly short-circuit the feeble currents of your nerveimpulses and bring either paralysis or death as I choose. 

"But enough of this!" Arlok broke off abruptly. "My materials are nowready, and it is time that I finished my work. I shall put you out ofmy way for a few hours until I am ready to send you through the Gateto the laboratories of Xoran. "

The green and blue fire of the tentacle's tips flamed to dazzlingbrightness. The paralysis of Gordon's body swept swiftly over hisbrain. Black oblivion engulfed him. 

 * * * * *

When Gordon again recovered consciousness he found that he was lyingon the floor of what was apparently a narrow hall, near the foot of astairway. His hands were lashed tightly behind him, and his feet andlegs were so firmly pinioned together that he could scarcely move. 

Beside him lay Leah, also tightly bound. A short distance down thehall was the closed door of Arlok's work-room, recognizable by thethin line of red light gleaming beneath it. 

Moonlight through a window at the rear of the hall made objects aroundGordon fairly clear. He looked at Leah and saw tears glistening on herlong lashes. 

"Oh, Blair, I was afraid you'd never waken again, " the girl sobbed. "Ithought that fiend had killed you!" Her voice broke hysterically. 

"Steady, darling, " Gordon said soothingly. "We simply can't give upnow, you know. If that monstrosity ever opens that accursed Gate ofhis our entire world is doomed. There must be some way to stop him. We've got to find that way and try it--even if it seems only oneforlorn chance in a million. "

 * * * * *

Gordon shook his head to clear the numbness still lingering from theeffect of Arlok's tentacle. The Xoranian seemed unable to produce aparalysis of any great duration with his weird natural weapon. Accordingly, he had been forced to bind his captives like two trussedfowls while he returned to his labors. 

Lying close together as they were, it was a comparatively easy matterfor them to get their bound hands within reach of each other, butafter fifteen minutes of vain work Gordon realized that any attempt atuntying the ropes was useless. Arlok's prodigious strength had drawnthe knots so tight that no human power could ever loosen them. 

Then Gordon suddenly thought of the one thing in his pockets thatmight help them. It was a tiny cigarette lighter, of thespring-trigger type. It was in his vest pocket completely out of reachof his bound hands, but there was a way out of that difficulty. 

Gordon and Leah twisted and rolled their bodies like twocontortionists until they succeeded in getting into such a positionthat Leah was able to get her teeth in the cloth of the vest pocket'sedge. A moment of desperate tugging, then the fabric gave way. Thelighter dropped from the torn pocket to the floor, where Leahretrieved it. 

Then they twisted their bodies back to back. Leah managed to get thelighter flaming in her bound hands. Gordon groped in an effort toguide the ropes on his wrists over the tiny flickering flame. 

 * * * * *

Then there came the faint welcome odor of smoldering rope as thelighter's tiny flame bit into the bonds. Gordon bit his lips tosuppress a cry of pain as the flame seared into his skin as well. Theflame bit deeper into the rope. A single strand snapped. 

Then another strand gave way. To Gordon the process seemed endless asthe flame scorched rope and flesh alike. A long minute of lancingagony that seemed hours--then Gordon could stand no more. He tensedhis muscles in one mighty agonized effort to end the torture of theflame. 

The weakened rope gave way completely beneath that pain-maddenedlunge. Gordon's hands were free. It was an easy matter now to use thelighter to finish freeing himself and Leah. They made their wayswiftly back to the window at the rear of the hall. It slid silentlyupward. A moment later, and they were out in the brilliantmoonlight--free. 

They made their way around to the front of the house. Behind the drawnshades of one of the front rooms an eery glow of red light marked thelocation of Arlok's work-room. They heard the occasional clink oftools inside the room as the Xoranian diligently worked to completehis apparatus. 

They crept stealthily up to where one of the French windows of Arlok'swork-room swung slightly ajar. Through the narrow crevice they couldsee Arlok's grotesque back as he labored over the complex assembly ofapparatus against the wall. 

A heavy stone flung through the window would probably wreck thatdelicate mechanism completely, yet the two watchers knew that such arespite would be only a temporary one. As long as Arlok remained aliveon this planet to build other gates to Xoran, Earth's eventual doomwas certain. Complete destruction of Arlok himself was Earth's onlyhope of salvation. 

 * * * * *

The Xoranian seemed to be nearing the end of his labors. He left theapparatus momentarily and walked over to a work-bench where he pickedup a slender rod-like tool. Donning a heavy glove to shield his lefthand, he selected a small plate of bluish-gray metal, then pressed aswitch in the handle of the tool in his right hand. 

A blade of blinding white flame, seemingly as solid as a blade ofmetal, spurted for the length of a foot from the tool's tip. Arlokbegan cutting the plate with the flame, the blade shearing through theheavy metal as easily as a hot knife shears through butter. 

The sight brought a sudden surge of exultant hope to Gordon. Heswiftly drew Leah away from the window, far enough to the side thattheir low-voiced conversation could not be heard from inside thework-room. 

"Leah, there is our one chance!" he explained excitedly. "That bluefiend _is_ vulnerable, and that flame-tool of his is the weapon toreach his vulnerability. Did you notice how careful he was to shieldhis other hand with a glove before he turned the tool on? He can behurt by that blade of flame, and probably hurt badly. "

Leah nodded in quick understanding. "If I could lure him out of theroom for just a moment, you could slip in through the window and getthat flame-tool, Blair, " she suggested eagerly. 

"That might work, " Gordon agreed reluctantly. "But, Leah, don't runany more risks than you absolutely have to!" He picked up a smallrock. "Here, take this with you. Open the door into the hall andattract Arlok's attention by throwing the rock at his preciousapparatus. Then the minute he sees you, try to escape out through thehall again. He'll leave his work to follow you. When he returns to hiswork-room I'll be in there waiting for him. And I'll be waiting with aweapon that can stab through even that armor-plated hide of his!"

They separated, Leah to enter the house, Gordon to return to thewindow. 

 * * * * *

Arlok was back over in front of the apparatus, fitting into place thepiece of metal he had just cut. The flame-tool, its switch now turnedoff, was still on the work-bench. 

Gordon's heart pounded with excitement as he crouched there with hiseyes fixed upon the closed hall door. The minutes seemed to draginterminably. Then suddenly Gordon's muscles tensed. The knob of thehall door had turned ever so slightly. Leah was at her post!

The next moment the door was flung open with a violence that sent itslamming back against the wall. The slender figure of Leah stoodframed in the opening, her dark eyes blazing as she flung one hand upto hurl her missile. 

Arlok whirled just as Leah threw the rock straight at the intricateGate-opening apparatus. With the speed of thought the Xoranian flunghis own body over to shield his fragile instruments. The rock thuddedharmlessly against his metallic chest. 

Then Arlok's tentacle flung out like a striking cobra, its forked tipflaming blue and green fire as it focussed upon the open door. ButLeah was already gone. Gordon heard her flying footsteps as she raceddown the hall. Arlok promptly sped after her in swift pursuit. 

As Arlok passed through the door into the hall Gordon flung himselfinto the room, and sped straight for the work-bench. He snatched theflame-tool up, then darted over to the wall by the door. He was not asecond too soon. The heavy tread of Arlok's return was already audiblein the hall just outside. 

Gordon prepared to stake everything upon his one slim chance ofdisabling that fearful tentacle before Arlok could bring it intoaction. He pressed the tiny switch in the flame-tool's handle just asArlok came through the door. 

 * * * * *

Arlok, startled by the glare of the flame-tool's blazing blade, whirled toward Gordon--but too late. That thin searing shaft of vividflame had already struck squarely at the base of the Xoranian'stentacle. A seething spray of hissing sparks marked the place wherethe flame bit deeply home. Arlok screamed, a ghastly metallic note ofanguish like nothing human. 

The Xoranian's powerful hands clutched at Gordon, but he leapedlithely backward out of their reach. Then Gordon again attacked, theflame-tool's shining blade licking in and out like a rapier. Thesearing flame swept across one of Arlok's arms, and the Xoranianwinced. Then the blade stabbed swiftly at Arlok's waist. Arlokhalf-doubled as he flinched back. Gordon shifted his aim withlightning speed and sent the blade of flame lashing in one accurateterrible stroke that caught Arlok squarely in the eyes. 

Again Arlok screamed in intolerable agony as that tearing flamedarkened forever his glowing eyes. In berserker fury the torturedXoranian charged blindly toward Gordon. Gordon warily dodged to oneside. Arlok, sightless, and with his tentacle crippled, still hadenough power in that mighty metallic body of his to tear a hundredEarth men to pieces. 

Gordon stung Arlok's shoulder with the flame, then desperately leapedto one side just in time to dodge a flailing blow that would have madepulp of his body had it landed. 

Arlok went stark wild in his frenzied efforts to come to grips withhis unseen adversary. Furniture crashed and splintered to kindlingwood beneath his threshing feet. Even the stout walls of the roomshivered and cracked as the incredible weight of Arlok's body caromedagainst them. 

 * * * * *

Gordon circled lithely around the crippled blue monstrosity like atimber wolf circling a wounded moose. He began concentrating hisattack upon Arlok's left leg. Half a dozen deep slashes with thesearing flame--then suddenly the thin leg crumpled and broke. Arlokcrashed helplessly to the floor. 

Gordon was now able to shift his attack to Arlok's head. Dodging theblindly flailing arms of the Xoranian, he stabbed again and again atthat oval-shaped skull. 

The searing thrusts began to have their effect. Arlok's convulsivemovements became slower and weaker. Gordon sent the flame stabbing ina long final thrust in an attempt to pierce through to that alienmetal brain. 

With startling suddenness the flame burned its way home to someunknown center of life force in the oval skull. There was a brief butappalling gush of bright purple flame from Arlok's eye-sockets andmouth orifice. Then his twitching body stiffened. His bluish-gray hidedarkened with incredible swiftness into a dull black. Arlok was dead. 

Gordon, sickened at the grisly ending to the battle, snapped off theflame-tool and turned to search for Leah. He found her alreadystanding in the hall door, alive, and unhurt. 

 * * * * *

"I escaped through the window at the end of the hall, " she explained. "Arlok quit following me as soon as he saw that you too were gone fromwhere he had left us tied. " She shuddered as she looked down at theXoranian's mangled body. "I saw most of your fight with him, Blair. Itwas terrible; awful. But, Blair, we've won!"

"Yes, and now we'll make sure of the fruits of our victory, " Gordonsaid grimly, starting over toward the Gate-opening apparatus with theflame-tool in his hand. A very few minutes' work with the shearingblade of flame reduced the intricate apparatus to a mere tangled pileof twisted metal. 

Arlok, Gate-opener of Xoran, was dead--and the Gate to that grimplanet was now irrevocably closed!

"Blair, do you feel it too, that eery feeling of countless eyes stillwatching us from Xoran?" There was frank awe in Leah's half-whisperedquestion. "You know Arlok said that they had watched us for centuriesfrom their side of the barrier. I'm sure they're watching us now. Willthey send another Opener of Gates to take up the work where Arlokfailed?"

Gordon took Leah into his arms. "I don't know, dear, " he admittedgravely. "They may send another messenger, but I doubt it. This worldof ours has had its warning, and it will heed it. The watchers onXoran must know that in the five hundred and forty years it would taketheir next messenger to get here, the Earth will have had more thanenough time to prepare an adequate defense for even Xoran's menace. Idoubt if there will ever again be an attempt made to open the Gate toXoran. "

[Illustration: _The great ship tore apart. _]

The Eye of Allah

_By C. D. Willard_

 On the fatal seventh of September a certain Secret Service man sat in the President's chair and--looked back into the Eye of Allah. 

Blinky Collins' part in this matter was very brief. Blinky lasted justlong enough to make a great discovery, to brag about it as wasBlinky's way, and then pass on to find his reward in whateverhereafter is set apart for weak-minded crooks whose heads are not hardenough to withstand the crushing impact of a lead-filled pacifier. 

The photograph studio of Blinky Collins was on the third floor of adisreputable building in an equally unsavory part of Chicago. Therewere no tinted pictures of beautiful blondes nor of stern, square-jawed men of affairs in Blinky's reception room. His clients, who came furtively there, were strongly opposed to having theirpictures taken--they came for other purposes. For the photographicwork of Mr. Collins was strictly commercial--and peculiar. There werefingerprints to be photographed and identified for purpose of privaterevenge, photographs of people to be merged and repictured incompromising closeness for reasons of blackmail. And even X-Rayphotography was included in the scope of his work. 

 * * * * *

The great discovery came when a box was brought to the dingy room andMr. Collins was asked to show what was inside it without the botherand inconvenience of disturbing lock and seals. The X-Ray machinesizzled above it, and a photographic plate below was developed to showa string of round discs that could easily have been pearls. 

The temporary possessor of the box was pleased with the result--butBlinky was puzzled. For the developer had brought out an odd result. There were the pearls as expected, but, too, there was a small picturesuperimposed--a picture of a bald head and a body beneath seatedbeside a desk. The picture had been taken from above looking straightdown, and head and desk were familiar. 

Blinky knew them both. The odd part was that he knew also that both ofthem were at that instant on the ground floor of the same disreputablebuilding, directly under and two floors below his workshop. 

Like many great discoveries, this of Blinky's came as the result of anaccident. He had monkeyed with the X-Ray generator and had madecertain substitutions. And here was the result--a bald head and adesk, photographed plainly through two heavy wood floors. Blinkyscratched his own head in deep thought. And then he repeated theoperation. 

This time there was a blonde head close to the bald one, and twopeople were close to the desk and to each other. Blinky knew then thatthere were financial possibilities in this new line of portrait work. 

It was some time before the rat eyes of the inventor were able to seeexactly what they wanted through this strange device, but Blinkylearned. And he fitted a telescope back of the ray and found that hecould look along it and see as if through a great funnel what wastranspiring blocks and blocks away; he looked where he would, andbrick walls or stone were like glass when the new ray struck throughthem. 

Blinky never knew what he had--never dreamed of the tremendouspotentialities in his oscillating ethereal ray that had a range andpenetration beyond anything known. But he knew, in a vague way, thatthis ray was a channel for light waves to follow, and he learned thathe could vary the range of the ray and that whatever light was shownat the end of that range came to him as clear and distinct as if hewere there in the room. 

He sat for hours, staring through the telescope. He would train thedevice upon a building across the street, then cut down the currentuntil the unseen vibration penetrated inside the building. If therewas nothing there of interest he would gradually increase the power, and the ray would extend out and still out into other rooms and beyondthem to still others. Blinky had a lot of fun, but he never forgot thepractical application of the device--practical, that is, from thedistorted viewpoint of a warped mind. 

 * * * * *

"I've heard about your machine, " said a pasty-faced man one day, as hesat in Blinky's room, "and I think it's a lot of hooey. But I'd givejust one grand to know who is with the district attorney this minute. "

"Where is he?" asked Blinky. 

"Two blocks down the street, in the station house . .. And if PokeyBarnard is with him, the lousy stool-pigeon--"

Blinky paid no attention to the other's opinion of one Pokey Barnard;he was busy with a sputtering blue light and a telescope behind ashield of heavy lead. 

"Put your money on the table, " he said, finally: "there's the dicks . .. And there's Pokey. Take a look--"

It was some few minutes later that Blinky learned of another valuablefeature in his ray. He was watching the district attorney when thepasty-faced man brushed against a hanging incandescent light. Therewas a bit of bare wire exposed, and as it swung into the ray the fusesin the Collins studio blew out instantly. 

But the squinting eyes at the telescope had seen something first. Theyhad seen the spare form of the district attorney throw itself from thechair as if it had been dealt a blow--or had received an electricshock. 

Blinky put in new fuses--heavier ones--and tried it again on anothersubject. And again the man at the receiving end got a shot of currentthat sent him sprawling. 

"Now what the devil--" demanded Blinky. He stood off and looked at themachine, the wire with its 110 volts, the invisible ray that wasstreaming out. 

"It's insulated, the machine is, " he told his caller, "so the juicewon't shoot back if I keep my hands off; but why, " he demandedprofanely, "don't it short on the first thing it touches?"

 * * * * *

He was picturing vaguely a ray like a big insulated cable, with lightand current both traveling along a core at its center, cut off, insulated by the ray, so that only the bare end where the ray stoppedcould make contact. 

"Some more of them damn electrons, " he hazarded; then demanded of hiscaller: "But am I one hell of a smart guy? Or am I?"

There was no denying this fact. The pasty-faced man told Blinky withlurid emphasis just how smart. He had seen with his own eyes and thiswas too good to keep. 

He paid his one grand and departed, first to make certain necessaryarrangements for the untimely end of one Pokey Barnard, squealer, louse, et cetera, et cetera, and then to spread the glad news throughthe underworld of Collins' invention. 

That was Blinky's big mistake, as was shown a few days later. Not manyhad taken seriously the account of the photographer's experiments, butthere was one who had, as was evident. A bearded man, whose eyesstared somewhat wildly from beneath a shock of frowzy hair, enteredthe Collins work-room and locked the door behind him. His English wasimperfect, but the heavy automatic in his hand could not bemisunderstood. He forced the trembling inventor to give ademonstration, and the visitor's face showed every evidence ofdelight. 

"The cur-rent, " he demanded with careful words, "the electreekcur-rent, you shall do also. Yes?"

Again the automatic brought quick assent, and again the visitor showedhis complete satisfaction. Showed it by slugging the inventor quietlyand efficiently and packing the apparatus in the big suitcase he hadbrought. 

Blinky Collins had been fond of that machine. He had found a form oftelevision with uncounted possibilities, and it had been for him theperfect instrument of a blackmailing Peeping Tom; he had learned thesecret of directed wireless transmission of power and had seen it as ameans for annoying his enemies. Yet Blinky Collins--the late BlinkyCollins--offered no least objection, when the bearded man walked offwith the machine. His body, sprawled awkwardly in the corner, wasquite dead. .. . 

 * * * * *

And now, some two months later, in his Washington office, the Chief ofthe United States Secret Service pushed a paper across his desk to awaiting man and leaned back in his chair. 

"What would you make of that, Del?" he asked. 

Robert Delamater reached leisurely for the paper. He regarded it withsleepy, half-closed eyes. 

There was a crude drawing of an eye at the top. Below was printed--notwritten--a message in careful, precise letters: "Take warning. The Eyeof Allah is upon you. You shall instructions receive from time totime. Follow them. Obey. "

Delamater laughed. "Why ask me what I think of a nut letter like that. You've had plenty of them just as crazy. "

"This didn't come to me, " said the Chief; "it was addressed to thePresident of the United States. "

"Well, there will be others, and we will run the poor sap down. Nothing out of the ordinary I should say. "

"That is what I thought--at first. Read this--" The big, heavy-set manpushed another and similar paper across the desk. "This one wasaddressed to the Secretary of State. "

Delamater did not read it at once. He held both papers to the light;his fingers touched the edges only. 

"No watermark, " he mused; "ordinary white writing stock--sold in allthe five and ten cent stores. Tried these for fingerprints Isuppose?". 

"Read it, " suggested the Chief. 

"Another picture of an eye, " said Delamater aloud, and read: "'Warning. You are dealing with an emissary from a foreign power who is anunfriend of my country. See him no more. This is the first and lastwarning. The Eye of Allah watches. '

"And what is this below--? 'He did not care for your cigars, Mr. Secretary. Next time--but there must be no next time. '"

 * * * * *

Delamater read slowly--lazily. He seemed only slightly interestedexcept when he came to the odd conclusion of the note. But the Chiefknew Delamater and knew how that slow indolence could give place to afeverish, alert concentration when work was to be done. 

"Crazy as a loon, " was the man's conclusion as he dropped the papersupon the desk. 

"Crazy, " his chief corrected, "like a fox! Read the last line again;then get this--

"The Secretary of State _is_ meeting with a foreign agent who is herevery much incog. Came in as a servant of a real ambassador. Slippedquietly into Washington, and not a soul knew he was here. He met theSecretary in a closed room; no one saw him come or leave--";

"Well, the Secretary tells me that in that room where nobody could seehe offered this man a cigar. His visitor took it, tried to smoke it, apologized--and lit one of his own vile cigarettes. "

"Hm-m!" Delamater sat a little straighter in his chair; his eyebrowswere raised now in questioning astonishment. "Dictaphone? Someemployee of the Department listening in?"

"Impossible. "

"Now that begins to be interesting, " the other conceded. His eyes hadlost their sleepy look. "Want me to take it on?"

"Later. Right now. I want you to take this visiting gentleman underyour personal charge. Here is the name and the room and hotel where heis staying. He is to meet with the Secretary to-night--he knows where. You will get to him unobserved--absolutely unseen; I can leave that toyou. Take him yourself to his appointment, and take him without abrass band. But have what men you want tail you and watch out forspies. .. . Then, when he is through, bring him back and deliver himsafely to his room. Compray?"

"Right--give me Wilkins and Smeed. I rather think I can get this birdthere and back without being seen, but perhaps they may catch Allahkeeping tabs on us at that. " He laughed amusedly as he took the paperwith the name and address. 

 * * * * *

A waiter with pencil and order-pad might have been seen some hourslater going as if from the kitchen to the ninth floor of a Washingtonhotel. And the same waiter, a few minutes later, was escorting a guestfrom a rear service-door to an inconspicuous car parked nearby. Thewaiter slipped behind the wheel. 

A taxi, whose driver was half asleep, was parked a hundred feet behindthem at the curb. As they drove away and no other sign of life wasseen in the quiet street the driver of the taxi yawned ostentatiouslyand decided to seek a new stand. He neglected possible fares until aman he called Smeed hailed him a block farther on. They followedslowly after the first car . .. And they trailed it again on its returnafter some hours. 

"Safe as a church, " they reported to the driver of the first car. "We'll swear that nobody was checking up on that trip. "

And: "O. K. " Delamater reported to his chief the next morning. "Putone over on this self-appointed Allah that time. "

But the Chief did not reply: he was looking at a slip of paper likethose he had shown his operative the day before. He tossed it toDelamater and took up the phone. 

"To the Secretary of State, " Delamater read. "You had your warning. Next time you disobey it shall be you who dies. "

The signature was only the image of an eye. 

 * * * * *

The Chief was calling a number; Delamater recognized it as that of thehotel he had visited. "Manager, please, at once, " the big man wassaying. 

He identified himself to the distant man. Then: "Please check up onthe man in nine four seven. If he doesn't answer, enter the room andreport at once--I will hold the phone. .. . "

The man at the desk tapped steadily with a pencil; Robert Delamatersat quietly, tensely waiting. But some sixth sense told him what theanswer would be. He was not surprised when the Chief repeated what thephone had whispered. 

"Dead?. .. Yes!. .. Leave everything absolutely undisturbed. We will beright over. "

"Get Doctor Brooks, Del, " he said quietly; "the Eye of Allah waswatching after all. "

Robert Delamater was silent as they drove to the hotel. Where had heslipped? He trusted Smeed and Wilkins entirely; if they said his carhad not been followed it had not. And the visitor had been disguised;he had seen to that. Then, where had this person stood--this being whocalled himself the Eye of Allah?

"Chief, " he said finally. "I didn't slip--nor Wilkins or Smeed. "

"Someone did, " replied the big man, "and it wasn't the Eye of Allah, either. "

The manager of the hotel was waiting to take them to the room. Heunlocked the door with his pass key. 

"Not a thing touched, " he assured the Secret Service men; "there heis, just the way we found him. "

In the doorway between the bedroom and bath a body was huddled. DoctorBrooks knelt quickly beside it. His hands worked swiftly for a moment, then he rose to his feet. 

"Dead, " he announced. 

"How long?" asked the Chief. 

"Some time. Hours I should say--perhaps eight or ten. "

"Cause?" the query was brief. 

"It will take an autopsy to determine that. There is no blood or woundto be seen. "

 * * * * *

The doctor was again examining the partly rigid body. He opened onehand; it held a cake of soap. There was a grease mark on the hand. 

Delamater supplied the explanation. "He touched some grease on the oldcar I was using, " he said. "Must have gone directly to wash it off. See--there is water spilled on the floor. "

Water had indeed been splashed on the tile floor of the bath room; apool of it still remained about the heavy, foreign-looking shoes ofthe dead man. 

Something in it caught Delamater's eye. He leaned down to pick upthree pellets of metal, like small shot, round and shining. 

"I'll keep these, " he said, "though the man was never killed with shotas small as that. "

"We shall have to wait for the autopsy report, " said the Chiefcrisply; "that may give the cause of death. Was there anyone in theroom--did you enter it with him last night, Del?"

"No, " said the operative; "he was very much agitated when we gothere--dismissed me rather curtly at the door. He was quite upset aboutsomething--spoke English none too well and said something about awarning and damned our Secret Service as inefficient. "

"A warning!" said the Chief. The dead man's brief case was on the bed. He crossed to it and undid the straps; the topmost paper told thereason for the man's disquiet. It showed the familiar, staring eye. And beneath the eye was a warning: this man was to die if he did notleave Washington at once. 

The Chief turned to the hotel manager. "Was the door locked?"

"Yes. "

"But it is a spring lock. Someone could have gone out and closed itafter him. "

"Not this time. The dead-bolt was thrown. It takes a key to do thatfrom the outside or this thumb-turn on the inside. " The hotel mandemonstrated the action of the heavy bolt. 

"Then, with a duplicate key, a man could have left this room andlocked the door behind him. "

"Absolutely not. The floor-clerk was on duty all night. I havequestioned her: this room was under her eyes all the time. She sawthis man return, saw your man, here"--and he pointed toDelamater--"leave him at the door. There was no person left the roomafter that. "

"See about the autopsy, Doctor, " the Chief ordered. 

And to the manager: "Not a thing here must be touched. Admit only Mr. Delamater and no one else unless he vouches for them. 

"Del, " he told the operative, "I'm giving you a chance to make up forlast night. Go to it. "

And Robert Delamater "went to it" with all the thoroughness at hiscommand, and with a total lack of result. 

 * * * * *

The autopsy helped not at all. The man was dead; it was apparently anatural death. "Not a scratch nor a mark on him, " was the report. But:". .. Next time it will be you, " the note with the staring eye hadwarned the Secretary of State. The writer of it was taking full creditfor the mysterious death. 

Robert Delamater had three small bits of metal, like tiny shot, and heracked his brain to connect these with the death. There werefingerprints, too, beautifully developed upon the mysteriousmissives--prints that tallied with none in the records. There wereanalyses of the paper--of the ink--and not a clue in any of them. 

Just three pellets of metal. Robert Delamater had failed utterly, andhe was bitter in the knowledge of his failure. 

"He had you spotted, Del, " the Chief insisted. "The writer of thesenotes may be crazy, but he was clever enough to know that this man_did_ see the Secretary. And he was waiting for him when he came back;then he killed him. "

"Without a mark?"

"He killed him, " the Chief repeated; "then he left--and that's that. "

"But, " Delamater objected, "the room clerk--"

"--took a nap, " broke in the Chief. But Delamater could not besatisfied with the explanation. 

"He got his, all right, " he conceded, "--got it in a locked room ninestories above the street, with no possible means of bringing it uponhimself--and no way for the murderer to escape. I tell you there issomething more to this: just the letter to the Secretary, as if thisEye of Allah were spying upon him--"

The Chief waved all that aside. "A clever spy, " he insisted. "Tooclever for you. And a darn good guesser; he had us all fooled. Butwe're dealing with a madman, not a ghost, and he didn't sail inthrough a ninth story window nor go out through a locked door; neitherdid he spy on the Secretary of State in his private office. Don't tryto make a supernatural mystery out of a failure, Del. "

The big man's words were tempered with a laugh, but there was an edgeof sarcasm, ill-concealed. 

 * * * * *

And then came the next note. And the next. The letters were mailed atvarious points in and about the city; they came in a flood. And theywere addressed to the President of the United States, to the Secretaryof War--of the Navy--to all the Cabinet members. And all carried thesame threat under the staring eye. 

The United States, to this man, represented all that was tyrannicaland oppressive to the downtrodden of the earth. He proposed to endit--this government first, then others in their turn. It was theoutpouring of a wildly irrational mind that came to the office of theharassed Chief of the United States Secret Service, who hadinstructions to run this man down--this man who signed himself The Eyeof Allah. And do it quickly for the notes were threatening. OfficialWashington, it seemed, was getting jumpy and was making causticinquiries as to why a Secret Service department was maintained. 

The Chief, himself, was directing the investigation--and gettingnowhere. 

"Here is the latest, " he said one morning. "Mailed at New York. "Delamater and a dozen other operatives were in his office: he showedthem a letter printed like all the others. There was the eye, andbeneath were words that made the readers catch their breath. 

"The Eye of Allah sees--it has warned--now it will destroy. The day ofjudgment is at hand. The battleship _Maryland_ is at anchor in theHudson River at New York. No more shall it be the weapon of a despotgovernment. It will be destroyed at twelve o'clock on Septemberfifth. "

"Wild talk, " said the Chief, "but today is the fourth. The Commanderof the _Maryland_ has been warned--approach by air or water will beimpossible. I want you men to patrol the shore and nail this man if heshows up. Lord knows what he intends--bluffing probably--but he maytry some fool stunt. If he does--get him!"

 * * * * *

Eleven-thirty by the watch on Robert Delamater's wrist found himseated in the bow of a speed-boat the following morning. Theypatrolled slowly up and down the shore. There were fellow operatives, he knew, scores of them, posted at all points of vantage along thedocks. 

Eleven forty-five--and the roar of seaplanes came from above where airpatrols were-guarding the skies. Small boats drove back and forth onset courses; no curious sight-seeing craft could approach the_Maryland_ that day. On board the battleship, too, there was activityapparent. A bugle sounded, and the warning of bellowing Klaxons echoedacross the water. Here, in the peace and safety of the big port, thegreat man-of-war was sounding general quarters, and a scurry ofrunning men showed for an instant on her decks. Anti-aircraft gunsswung silently upon imaginary targets--

The watcher smiled at the absurdity of it all--this preparation torepel the attack of a wild-eyed writer of insane threats. And yet--andyet-- He knew, too, there was apprehension in his frequent glances athis watch. 

One minute to go! Delamater should have watched the shore. And, instead, he could not keep his eyes from the big fighting-shipsilhouetted so clearly less than a mile away, motionless andwaiting--waiting--for what? He saw the great turreted guns, uselessagainst this puny, invisible opponent. Above them the fighting topswere gleaming. And above them--

Delamater shaded his eyes with a quick, tense hand: the tip of themast was sparkling. There was a blue flash that glinted along thesteel. It was gone to reappear on the fighting top itself--then lower. 

 * * * * *

What was it? the watching man was asking himself. What did it bring tomind? A street-car? A defective trolley? The zipping flash of acontact made and broken? That last!

Like the touch of a invisible wire, tremendously charged, a wire thattouched and retreated, that made and lost its contact, the flashingarc was working toward the deck. It felt its way to the body of theship; the arc was plain, starting from mid-air to hiss against thearmored side; the arc shortened--went to nothing--vanished. .. . A puffof smoke from an open port proved its presence inside. Delamater hadthe conviction that a deadly something had gone through the ship'sside--was insulated from it--was searching with its blazing, arcingend for the ammunition rooms. .. . 

The realization of that creeping menace came to Delamater with agripping, numbing horror. The seconds were almost endless as hewaited. Slowly, before his terrified eyes, the deck of the great shipbulged upward . .. Slowly it rolled and tore apart . .. A mammoth turretwith sixteen-inch guns was lifting unhurriedly into the air . .. Therewere bodies of men rocketing skyward. .. . 

The mind of the man was racing at lightning speed, and the havocbefore him seemed more horrible in its slow, leisurely progress. If hecould only move--do something!

The shock of the blasted air struck him sprawling into the bottom ofthe boat; the listener was hammered almost to numbness by thedeafening thunder that battered and tore through the still air. At topspeed the helmsman drove for the shelter of a hidden cove. They madeit an instant before the great waves struck high upon the sand spit. Over the bay hung a ballooning cloud of black and gray--lifting for aninstant to show in stark ghastliness the wreckage, broken and twisted, that marked where the battleship _Maryland_ rested in the mud in theharbor of New York. 

 * * * * *

The eyes of the Secret-Service men were filled with the indelibleimpress of what they had seen. Again and again, before him, came thevision of a ship full of men in horrible, slow disintegration; hismind was numbed and his actions and reactions were largely automatic. But somehow he found himself in the roar of the subway, and later hesat in a chair and knew he was in a Pullman of a Washington train. 

He rode for hours in preoccupied silence, his gaze fixed unseeingly, striving to reach out and out to some distant, unknown something whichhe was trying to visualize. But he looked at intervals at his handthat held three metal pellets. 

He was groping for the mental sequence which would bring the few knownfacts together and indicate their cause. A threat--a seeming spyingwithin a closed and secret room--the murder on the ninth floor, amurder without trace of wound or weapon. Weapon! He stared again atthe tangible evidence he held; then shook his head in perplexedabstraction. No--the man was killed by unknown means. 

And now--the _Maryland_! And a visible finger of death--touching, flashing, feeling its way to the deadly cargo of powder sacks. 

Not till he sat alone with his chief did he put into words histhoughts. 

"A time bomb did it, " the Chief was saying. "The officials deny it, but what other answer is there? No one approached that ship--you knowthat, Del--no torpedo nor aerial bomb! Nothing as fanciful as that!"

Robert Delamater's lips formed a wry smile. "Nothing at fanciful asthat"--and he was thinking, thinking--of what he hardly dared express. 

"We will start with the ship's personnel, " the other continued; "findevery man who was not on board when the explosion occurred--"

"No use, " the operative interrupted; "this was no inside job, Chief. "He paused to choose his words while the other watched him curiously. 

"Someone _did_ reach that ship--reached it from a distance--reached itin the same way they reached that poor devil I left at room nineforty-seven. Listen--"

 * * * * *

He told his superior of his vigil on the speed-boat--of the almostinvisible flash against the ship's mast. "He reached it, Chief, " heconcluded; "he felt or saw his way down and through the side of thatship. And he fired their ammunition from God knows where. "

"I wonder, " said the big man slowly; "I wonder if you know just whatyou are trying to tell me--just how absurd your idea is. Are youseriously hinting at long-distance vision through solidarmor-plate--through these walls of stone and steel? And wirelesspower-transmission through the same wall--!"

"Exactly!" said the operative. 

"Why, Del, you must be as crazy as this Eye of Allah individual. It'simpossible. "

"That word, " said Delamater, quietly, "has been crossed out ofscientific books in the past few years. "

"What do you mean?"

"You have studied some physical science, of course?" Delamater asked. The Chief nodded. 

"Then you know what I mean. I mean that up to recent years science hadall the possibilities and impossibilities neatly divided andcatalogued. Ignorance, as always, was the best basis for positiveassurance. Then they got inside the atom. And since then your realscientist has been a very humble man. He has seen the impossibility ofyesterday become the established fact of to-day. "

The Chief of the United States Secret Service was tapping with nervousirritation on the desk before him. 

"Yes, yes!" he agreed, and again he looked oddly at his operative. "Perhaps there is something to that; you work along that line, Del:you can have a free hand. Take a few days off, a little vacation ifyou wish. Yes--and ask Sprague to step in from the other office; hehas the personnel list. "

 * * * * *

Robert Delamater felt the other's eyes follow him as he left the room. "And that about lets me out, " he told himself; "he thinks I've gonecuckoo, now. "

He stopped in a corridor; his fingers, fumbling in a vest pocket, hadtouched the little metal spheres. Again his mind flashed back to thechain of events he had linked together. He turned toward an inneroffice. 

"I would like to see Doctor Brooks, " he said. And when the physicianappeared: "About that man who was murdered at the hotel, Doctor--"

"Who died, " the doctor corrected; "we found no evidence of murder. "

"Who was murdered, " the operative insisted. "Have you his clothingwhere I can examine it?"

"Sure, " agreed the physician. He led Delamater to another room andbrought out a box of the dead man's effects. 

"But if it's murder you expect to prove you'll find no help in this. "

The Secret Service man nodded. "I'll look them over, just the same, "he said. "Thanks. "

Alone in the room, he went over the clothing piece by piece. Again heexamined each garment, each pocket, the lining, as he had done beforewhen first he took the case. Metal, he thought, he must find metal. 

But only when a heavy shoe was in his hands did the anxious frownrelax from about his eyes. 

"Of course, " he whispered, half aloud. "What a fool I was! I shouldhave thought of that. "

The soles of the shoes were sewed, but, beside the stitches were metalspecks, where cobbler's nails were driven. And in the sole of one shoewere three tiny holes. 

"Melted!" he said exultantly. "Crazy, am I, Chief? This man wasstanding on a wet floor; he made a perfect ground. And he got a joltthat melted these nails when it flashed out of him. "

He wrapped the clothing carefully and replaced it in the box. And hefingered the metal pellets in his pocket as he slipped quietly fromthe room. 

 * * * * *

He did not stop to talk with Doctor Brooks; he wanted to think, toponder upon the incredible proof of the theory he had hardly daredbelieve. The Eye of Allah--the maniac--was real; and his power forevil! There was work to be done, and the point of beginning was notplain. 

How far did the invisible arm reach? How far could the Eye of Allahsee? Where was the generator--the origin of this wireless power; alongwhat channel did it flow? A ray of lightless light--an unseen etherealvibration. .. . Delamater could only guess at the answers. 

The current to kill a man or to flash a spark into silken powder bagsneed not be heavy, he knew. Five hundred--a thousand volts--if themysterious conductor carried it without resistance and without loss. People had been killed by house-lighting currents--a mere 110volts--when conditions were right. There would be no peculiar orunusual demand upon the power company to point him toward the hiddenmaniac. 

He tossed restlessly throughout the night, and morning brought noanswer to his repeated questions. But it brought a hurry call from hisChief. 

"Right away, " was the instruction; "don't lose a minute. Come to theoffice. "

He found the big man at his desk. He was quiet, unhurried, but theoperative knew at a glance the tense repression that was beingexercised--the iron control of nerves that demanded action and foundincompetence and helplessness instead. 

"I don't believe your fantastic theories, " he told Delamater. "Impractical--impossible! But--" He handed the waiting man a paper. "We must not leave a stone unturned. "

Delamater said nothing; he looked at the paper in his hand. "To thePresident of the United States, " he read. "Prepare to meet your God. Friday. The eighth. Twelve o'clock. "

The signature he hardly saw; the staring, open eye was all toofamiliar. 

"That is to-morrow, " said Delamater softly. "The President diesto-morrow. "

 * * * * *

"No!" exploded the Chief. "Do you realize what that means? ThePresident murdered--more killings to follow--and the killer unknown!Why the country will be in a panic: the whole structure of theGovernment is threatened!"

He paused, then added as he struck his open hand upon the desk: "Iwill have every available man at the White House. "

"For witnesses?" asked Delamater coldly. 

The big man stared at his operative; the lines of his face weresagging. 

"Do you believe--really--he can strike him down--at his desk--from adistance?"

"I know it. " Delamater's fingers played for a moment with three bitsof metal in his pocket. Unconsciously he voiced his thoughts: "Doesthe President have nails in his shoes, I wonder?"

"What--what's that?" the Chief demanded. 

But Delamater made no reply. He was picturing the President. He wouldbe seated at his desk, waiting, waiting . .. And the bells would beringing and whistles blowing from distant shops when the bolt wouldstrike. .. . It would flash from his feet . .. Through the thick rug . .. Through the rug. .. . It would have to ground. 

He paid no heed to his Chief's repeated question. He was seeing, notthe rug in the Presidential office, but below it--underneath it--aheavy pad of rubber. 

"If he can be insulated--" he said aloud, and stared unseeingly at hiseagerly listening superiors--"even the telephone cut--no possibleconnection with the ground--"

"For God's sake, Del, if you've got an idea--any hope at all! I'm--I'mup against it, Del. "

The operative brought his distant gaze back to the room and the manacross from him. "Yes, " he said slowly, thoughtfully, "I've got thebeginning of an idea; I don't see the end of it yet. 

"We can cut him off from the ground--the President, I mean--make aninsulated island where he sits. But this devil will get him theinstant he leaves . .. Unless . .. Unless. .. . "

"Yes--yes?" The Chief's voice was high-pitched with anxiousimpatience; for the first time he was admitting to himself hiscomplete helplessness in this emergency. 

"Unless, " said Delamater, as the idea grew and took shape, "unlessthat wireless channel works both ways. If it does . .. If it does. .. . "

The big man made a gesture of complete incomprehension. 

"Wait!" said Robert Delamater, sharply. If ever his sleepy indolencehad misled his Chief, there was none to do so now in the voice thatrang like cold steel. His eyes were slits under the deep-drawn brows, and his mouth was one straight line. 

 * * * * *

To the hunter there is no greater game than man. And Robert Delamater, man-hunter, had his treacherous quarry in sight. He fired staccatoquestions at his Chief. 

"Is the President at his desk at twelve?"

"Yes. "

"Does he know--about this?"

"Yes. "

"Does he know it means death?"

The Chief nodded. 

"I see a way--a chance, " said the operative. "Do I get a free hand?"

"Yes--Good Lord, yes! If there's any chance of--"

Delamater silenced him. "I'll be the one to take the chance, " he saidgrimly. "Chief, I intend to impersonate the President. "

"Now listen-- The President and I are about the same build. I know aman who can take care of the make-up; he will get me by anything but aclose inspection. This Eye of Allah, up to now, has worked only in thelight. We'll have to gamble on that and work our change in the dark. 

"The President must go to bed as usual--impress upon him that he maybe under constant surveillance. Then, in the night, he leaves--

"Oh, I know he won't want to hide himself, but he must. That's up toyou. 

"Arrange for me to go to his room before daylight. From that minute onI am the President. Get me his routine for that morning; I must followit so as to arouse no least suspicion. "

 * * * * *

"But I don't see--" began the Chief. "You will impersonatehim--yes--but what then? You will be killed if this maniac makes good. Is the President of the United States to be a fugitive? Is--"

"Hold on, hold on!" said Delamater. He leaned back in his chair; hisface relaxed to a smile, then a laugh. 

"I've got it all now. Perhaps it will work. If not--" A shrug of theshoulders completed the thought. "And I have been shooting it to youpretty fast haven't I! Now here is the idea--

"I must be in the President's chair at noon. This Allah person will bewatching in, so I must be acting the part all morning. I will have theheaviest insulation I can get under the rug, and I'll have somethingto take the shot instead of myself. And perhaps, perhaps I will send amessage back to the Eye of Allah that will be a surprise. 

"Is it a bet?" he asked. "Remember, I'm taking the chance--unless youknow some better way--"

The Chief's chair came down with a bang. "We'll gamble on it, Del, " hesaid; "we've got to--there is no other way. .. . And now what do youwant?"

"A note to the White House electrician, " said Robert Delamater, "andfull authority to ask for anything I may need, from the U. S. Treasurydown to a pair of wire-cutters. "

His smile had become contagious; the Chief's anxious look relaxed. "Ifyou pull this off, Del, they may give you the Treasury or the Mint atthat. But remember, republics are notoriously ungenerous. "

"We'll have to gamble on that, too, " said Robert Delamater. 

 * * * * *

The heart of the Nation is Washington. Some, there are, who would haveus feel that New York rules our lives. Chicago--San Francisco--theseand other great cities sometimes forget that they are mere ganglia onthe financial and commercial nervous system. The heart is Washington, and, Congress to the contrary notwithstanding, the heart of that heartis not the domed building at the head of Pennsylvania Avenue, but anAmerican home. A simple, gracious mansion, standing in quiet dignityand whiteness above its velvet lawns. 

It is the White House that draws most strongly at the interest andcuriosity of the homely, common throng that visits the capital. 

But there were no casual visitors at the White House on the seventh ofSeptember. Certain Senators, even, were denied admittance. ThePresident was seeing only the members of the Cabinet and some fewothers. 

It is given to a Secret Service operative, in his time, to play manyparts. But even a versatile actor might pause at impersonating aPresident. Robert Delamater was acting the role with never a fumble. He sat, this new Robert Delamater, so startlingly like the ChiefExecutive, in the chair by a flat top desk. And he worked diligentlyat a mass of correspondence. 

Secretaries came and went; files were brought. Occasionally he repliedto a telephone call--or perhaps called someone. It would be hard tosay which happened, for no telephone bells rang. 

On the desk was a schedule that Delamater consulted. So much time forcorrespondence--so many minutes for a conference with this or thatofficial, men who were warned to play up to this new Chief Executiveas if the life of their real President were at stake. 

 * * * * *

To any observer the busy routine of the morning must have passed withnever a break. And there was an observer, as Delamater knew. He hadwondered if the mystic ray might carry electrons that would prove itspresence. And now he knew. 

The Chief of the U. S. Secret Service had come for a consultation withthe President. And whatever lingering doubts may have stifled hisreluctant imagination were dispelled when the figure at the deskopened a drawer. 

"Notice this, " he told the Chief as he appeared to search for a paperin the desk. "An electroscope; I put it in here last night. It isdischarging. The ray has been on since nine-thirty. No current toelectrocute me--just a penetrating ray. "

He returned the paper to the drawer and closed it. 

"So that is that, " he said, and picked up a document to which hecalled the visitor's attention. 

"Just acting, " he explained. "The audience may be critical; we musttry to give them a good show! And now give me a report. What are youdoing? Has anything else turned up? I am counting on you to stand byand see that that electrician is on his toes at twelve o'clock. "

"Stand by is right, " the Chief agreed; "that's about all we can do. Ihave twenty men in and about the grounds--there will be as many morelater on. And I know now just how little use we are to you, Del. "

"Your expression!" warned Delamater. "Remember you are talking to thePresident. Very official and all that. "

"Right! But now tell me what is the game, Del. If that devil fails toknock you out here where you are safe, he will get you when you leavethe room. "

"Perhaps, " agreed the pseudo-executive, "and again, perhaps not. Hewon't get me here; I am sure of that. They have this part of the roominsulated. The phone wire is cut--my conversations there are allfaked. 

"There is only one spot in this room where that current can pass. Aheavy cable is grounded outside in wet earth. It comes to a copperplate on this desk; you can't see it--it is under those papers. "

 * * * * *

"And if the current comes--" began the visitor. 

"When it comes, " the other corrected, "it will jump to that plate andgo off harmlessly--I hope. "

"And then what? How does that let you out?"

"Then we will see, " said the presidential figure. "And you've beenhere long enough, Chief. Send in the President's secretary as you goout. "

"He arose to place a friendly, patronizing hand on the other'sshoulder. 

"Good-by, " he said, "and watch that electrician at twelve. He is tothrow the big switch when I call. "

"Good luck, " said the big man huskily. "We've got to hand it to you, Del; you're--"

"Good-by!" The figure of the Chief Executive turned abruptly to hisdesk. 

There was more careful acting--another conference--some dictating. Theclock on the desk gave the time as eleven fifty-five. The man beforethe flat topped desk verified it by a surreptitious glance at hiswatch. He dismissed the secretary and busied himself with somepersonal writing. 

Eleven fifty-nine--and he pushed paper and pen aside. The movementdisturbed some other papers, neatly stacked. They were dislodged, andwhere they had lain was a disk of dull copper. 

"Ready, " the man called softly. "Don't stand too near that line. " Thefirst boom of noonday bells came faintly to the room. 

The President--to all but the other actors in the morning'sdrama--leaned far back in his chair. The room was suddenly deathlystill. The faint ticking of the desk clock was loud and rasping. Therewas heavy breathing audible in the room beyond. The last noonday chimehad died away. .. . 

The man at the desk was waiting--waiting. And he thought he wasprepared, nerves steeled, for the expected. But he jerked back, tofall with the overturned chair upon the soft, thick-padded rug, at theripping, crackling hiss that tore through the silent room. 

 * * * * *

From a point above the desk a blue arc flamed and wavered. Its unseenterminal moved erratically in the air, but the other end of the deadlyflame held steady upon a glowing, copper disc. 

Delamater, prone on the floor, saw the wavering point that marked theend of the invisible carrier of the current--saw it drift aside tillthe blue arc was broken. It returned, and the arc crashed again intoblinding flame. Then, as abruptly, the blue menace vanished. 

The man on the floor waited, waited, and tried to hold fast to somesense of time. 

Then: "Contact!" he shouted. "The switch! Close the switch!"

"Closed!" came the answer from a distant room. There was a shoutedwarning to unseen men: "Stand back there--back--there's twentythousand volts on that line--"

Again the silence. .. . 

"Would it work? Would it?" Delamater's mind was full of delirious, half-thought hopes. That fiend in some far-off room had cut thecurrent meant as a death-bolt to the Nation's' head. He would leavethe ray on--look along it to gloat over his easy victory. Hisgenerator must be insulated: would he touch it with his hand, now thathis own current was off?--make of himself a conductor?

In the air overhead formed a terrible arc. 

From the floor, Delamater saw it rip crashingly into life as twentythousand volts bridged the gap of a foot or less to the invisible ray. It hissed tremendously in the stillness. .. . 

And Delamater suddenly buried his face in his hands. For in his mindhe was seeing a rigid, searing body, and in his nostrils, acrid, distinct, was the smell of burning flesh. 

"Don't be a fool, " he told himself fiercely. "Don't be a fool!Imagination!"

The light was out. 

"Switch off!" a voice was calling. There was a rush of swift feet fromthe distant doors; friendly hands were under him--lifting him--as theroom, for Robert Delamater, President-in-name of the United States, turned whirlingly, dizzily black. .. . 

 * * * * *

Robert Delamater, U. S. Secret Service operative, entered the officeof his Chief. Two days of enforced idleness and quiet had been all hecould stand. He laid a folded newspaper before the smiling, welcomingman. 

"That's it, I suppose, " he said, and pointed to a short notice. 

"X-ray Operator Killed, " was the caption. "Found Dead in Office inWatts Building. " He had read the brief item many times. 

"That's what we let the reporters have, " said the Chief. 

"Was he"--the operative hesitated for a moment--"pretty well fried?"

"Quite!"

"And the machine?"

"Broken glass and melted metal. He smashed it as he fell. "

"The Eye of Allah, " mused Delamater. "Poor devil--poor, crazy devil. Well, we gambled--and we won. How about the rest of the bet? Do I getthe Mint?"

"Hell, no!" said the Chief. "Do you expect to win all the time? Theywant to know why it took us so long to get him. 

"Now, there's a little matter out in Ohio, Del, that we'll have to getafter--"

THE "TELELUX"

Sound and light were transformed into mechanical action at the banquetof the National Tool Exposition recently to illustrate theirpossibilities in regulating traffic, aiding the aviator, andperforming other automatic functions. 

A beam of light was thrown on the "eyes" of a mechanical contrivanceknown as the "telelux, " a brother of the "televox, " and as the lightwas thrown on and off it performed mechanical function such as turningan electric switch. 

The contrivance, which was developed by the Westinghouse Electric andManufacturing Company, utilizes two photo-electric cells, sensitive tothe light beam. One of the cells is a selector, which progressivelychooses any one of three operating circuits when light is thrown onit. The other cell is the operator, which opens or closes the chosencircuit, thus performing the desired function. 

S. M. Kintner, manager of the company's research department, who madethe demonstration, also threw music across the room on a beam oflight, and light was utilized in depicting the shape and direction ofstresses in mechanical materials. 

[Illustration _"The globe leaped upward into the huge coil, whichwhirled madly. "_]

The Fifth-Dimension Catapult

A COMPLETE NOVELETTE

_By Murray Leinster_

 The story of Tommy Reames' extraordinary rescue of Professor Denham and his daughter--marooned in the fifth dimension. 

FOREWORD

This story has no normal starting-place, because there are too manyplaces where it might be said to begin. One might commence whenProfessor Denham, Ph. D. , M. A. , etc. , isolated a metal thatscientists have been talking about for many years without ever beingable to smelt. Or it might start with his first experimental use ofthat metal with entirely impossible results. Or it might veryplausibly begin with an interview between a celebrated leader ofgangsters in the city of Chicago and a spectacled young laboratoryassistant, who had turned over to him a peculiar heavy object of solidgold and very nervously explained, and finally managed to prove, whereit came from. With also impossible results, because it turned "King"Jacaro, lord of vice-resorts and rum-runners, into a passionateenthusiast in non-Euclidean geometry. The whole story might be said tobegin with the moment of that interview. 

But that leaves out Smithers, and especially it leaves out TommyReames. So, on the whole, it is best to take up the narrative at themoment of Tommy's first entrance into the course of events. 

CHAPTER I

He came to a stop in a cloud of dust that swirled up to and all aboutthe big roadster, and surveyed the gate of the private road. The gatewas rather impressive. At its top was a sign. "Keep Out!" Halfway downwas another sign. "Private Property. Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted. "On one gate-post was another notice, "Live Wires Within. " and on theother a defiant placard. "Savage Dogs At Large Within This Fence. "

The fence itself was all of seven feet high and made of the heaviestof woven-wire construction. It was topped with barbed wire, and wentall the way down both sides of a narrow right of way until it vanishedin the distance. 

Tommy got out of the car and opened the gate. This fitted thedescription of his destination, as given him by a brawny, red-headedfilling-station attendant in the village some two miles back. He drovethe roadster through the gate, got out and closed it piously, got backin the car and shot it ahead. 

He went humming down the narrow private road at forty-five miles anhour. That was Tommy Reames' way. He looked totally unlike theconventional description of a scientist of any sort--as much unlike ascientist as his sport roadster looked unlike a scientist's customarymeans of transit--and ordinarily he acted quite unlike one. As amatter of fact, most of the people Tommy associated with had nofaintest inkling of his taste for science as an avocation. There wasPeter Dalzell, for instance, who would have held up his hands in holyhorror at the idea of Tommy Reames being the author of that article. "On the Mass and Inertia of the Tesseract, " which in the_Philosophical Journal_ had caused a controversy. 

And there was one Mildred Holmes--of no importance in the matter ofthe Fifth-Dimension Catapult--who would have lifted beautifully archedeyebrows in bored unbelief if anybody had suggested that Tommy Reameswas that Thomas Reames whose "Additions to Herglotz's Mechanics ofContinua" produced such diversities of opinion in scientific circles. She intended to make Tommy propose to her some day, and thought sheknew all about him. And everybody, everywhere, would have beenincredulous of his present errand. 

 * * * * *

Gliding down the narrow, fenced-in road. Tommy was a trifle dubiousabout this errand himself. A yellow telegraph-form in his pocket readrather like a hoax, but was just plausible enough to have brought himaway from a rather important tennis match. The telegram read:

 PROFESSOR DENHAM IN EXTREME DANGER THROUGH EXPERIMENT BASED ON YOUR ARTICLE ON DOMINANT COORDINATES YOU ALONE CAN HELP HIM IN THE NAME OF HUMANITY COME AT ONCE. 

 A. VON HOLTZ. 

The fence went on past the car. A mile, a mile and a half of narrowlane, fenced in and made as nearly intruder-proof as possible. 

"Wonder what I'd do, " said Tommy Reames, "if another car came alongfrom the other end?"

He deliberately tried not to think about the telegram any more. Hedidn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. But he couldn't ignore it, either. Nobody could: few scientists, and no human being with a normalamount of curiosity. Because the article on dominant coordinates hadappeared in the _Journal of Physics_ and had dealt with a state ofthings in which the normal coordinates of everyday existence wereassumed to have changed their functions: when the coordinates of time, the vertical, the horizontal and the lateral changed places and a manwent east to go up and west to go "down" and ran his street-numbers ina fourth dimension. It was mathematical foolery, from one standpoint, but it led to some fascinating if abstruse conclusions. 

 * * * * *

But his brain would not remain away from the subject of the telegram, even though a chicken appeared in the fenced-in lane ahead of him andwent flapping wildly on before the car. It rose in mid-air, the carovertook it as it rose above the level of the hood, and there was arolling, squawking bundle of shedding feathers tumbling over and overalong the hood until it reached the slanting windshield. There it spunwildly upward, left a cloud of feather's fluttering about Tommy'shead, and fell still squawking into the road behind. By the back-viewmirror, Tommy could see it picking itself up and staggering dizzilyback to the side of the road. 

"My point was, " said Tommy vexedly to himself, speaking of the articlethe telegram referred to, "that a man can only recognize threedimensions of space and one of time. So that if he got shot out ofthis cosmos altogether he wouldn't know the difference. He'd stillseem to be in a three-dimensioned universe. And what is there in thatstuff to get Denham in trouble?"

A house appeared ahead. A low, rambling sort of bungalow with a hugebrick barn behind it. The house of Professor Denham, very certainly, and that barn was the laboratory in which he made his experiments. 

Instinctively, Tommy stepped on the gas. The car leaped ahead. Andthen he was braking frantically. A pipe-framed gate with thinner, unpainted wire mesh filling its surface loomed before him, much toolate for him to stop. There was a minor shock, a crashing andsqueaking, and then a crash and shattering of glass. Tommy bent low asthe top bar of the gate hit his windshield. The double glass crackedand crumpled and bent, but did not fly to bits. And the car came to ahalt with its wheels intricately entangled in torn-away fence wire. The gate had been torn from its hinges and was draped rakishly overthe roadster. A tire went flat with a loud hissing noise, and TommyReames swore softly under his breath and got out to inspect thedamage. 

 * * * * *

He was deciding that nothing irreparable was wrong when a man camebursting out of the brick building behind the house. A tall, lean, youngish man who waved his arms emphatically and approached shouting:

"You had no right to come in here! You must go away at once! You havedamaged property! I will tell the Professor! You must pay for thedamage! You must--"

"Damn!" said Tommy Reames. He had just seen that his radiator waspunctured. A spout of ruddy, rusty water was pouring out on the grass. 

The youngish man came up furiously. A pale young man, Tommy noticed. Ayoung man with bristling, close-cropped hair and horn-rimmedspectacles before weak-looking eyes. His mouth was very full and veryred, in marked contrast to the pallor of his cheeks. 

"Did you not see the sign upon the gate?" he demanded angrily, incuriously stilted English. "Did you not see that trespassers areforbidden? You must go away at once! You will be prosecuted! You willbe imprisoned! You--"

Tommy said irritably:

"Are you Von Holtz? My name is Reames. You telegraphed me. "

The waving, lanky arms stopped in the middle of an excited gesture. The weak-looking eyes behind the lenses widened. A pink tongue lickedthe too-full, too-red lips. 

"Reames? The Herr Reames?" Von Holtz stammered. Then he saidsuspiciously, "But you are not--you cannot be the Herr Reames of thearticle on dominant coordinates!"

"I don't know why, " said Tommy annoyedly. "I'm also the Herr Reames ofseveral other articles, such as on the mechanics of continua and themass and inertia of the tesseract. And I believe the current_Philosophical Journal_--"

 * * * * *

He surveyed the spouting red stream from the radiator and shruggedruefully. 

"I wish you'd telephone the village to have somebody come out and fixmy car, " he said shortly, "and then tell me if this telegram is a jokeor not. "

He pulled out a yellow form and offered it. He had taken aninstinctive dislike to the lean figure before him, but suppressed thefeeling. 

Von Holtz took the telegram and read it, and smoothed it out, and saidagitatedly:

"But I thought the Herr Reames would be--would be a venerablegentleman! I thought--"

"You sent that wire, " said Tommy. "It puzzled me just enough to makeme rush out here. And I feel like a fool for having done it. What'sthe matter? Is it a joke?"

Von Holtz shook his head violently, even as he bit his lips. 

"No! No!" he protested. "The Herr Professor Denham is in the mostterrible, most deadly danger! I--I have been very nearly mad, HerrReames. The Ragged Men may seize him!. .. I telegraphed to you. I havenot slept for four nights. I have worked! I have racked my brains! Ihave gone nearly insane, trying to rescue the Herr Professor! And I--"

 * * * * *

Tommy stared. 

"Four days?" he said. "The thing, whatever it is, has been going onfor four days?"

"Five, " said Von Holtz nervously. "It was only to-day that I thoughtof you, Herr Reames. The Herr Professor Denham had praised yourarticles highly. He said that you were the only man who would be ableto understand his work. Five days ago--"

Tommy grunted. 

"If he's been in danger for five days, " he said skeptically, "he's notin such a bad fix or it'd have been over. Will you phone for arepairman? Then we'll see what it's all about. "

The lean arms began to wave again as Von Holtz said desperately:

"But Herr Reames, it is urgent! The Herr Professor is in deadlydanger!"

"What's the matter with him?"

"He is marooned, " said Von Holtz. Again he licked his lips. "He ismarooned, Herr Reames, and you alone--"

"Marooned?" said Tommy more skeptically still. "In the middle of NewYork State? And I alone can help him? You sound more and more as ifyou were playing a rather elaborate and not very funny practical joke. I've driven sixty miles to get here. What is the joke, anyhow?"

Von Holtz said despairingly:

"But it is true, Herr Reames! He is marooned. He has changed hiscoordinates. It was an experiment. He is marooned in the fifthdimension!"

 * * * * *

There was dead silence. Tommy Reames stared blankly. Then his gorgerose. He had taken an instinctive dislike to this lean young man, anyhow. So he stared at him, and grew very angry, and wouldundoubtedly have gotten into his car and turned it about and driven itaway again if it had been in any shape to run. But it wasn't. One tirewas flat, and the last ruddy drops from the radiator were drippingslowly on the grass. So he pulled out a cigarette case and lighted acigarette and said sardonically:

"The fifth dimension? That seems rather extreme. Most of us get alongvery well with three dimensions. Four seems luxurious. Why pick on thefifth?"

Von Holtz grew pale with anger in his turn. He waved his arms, stopped, and said with stiff formality:

"If the Herr Reames will follow me into the laboratory I will show himProfessor Denham and convince him of the Herr Professor's extremedanger. "

Tommy had a sudden startling conviction that Von Holtz was in earnest. He might be mad, but he was in earnest. And there was undoubtedly aProfessor Denham, and this was undoubtedly his home and laboratory. 

"I'll look, anyway, " said Tommy less skeptically. "But it is ratherincredible, you know!"

"It is impossible, " said Von Holtz stiffly. "You are right, HerrReames. It is quite impossible. But it is a fact. "

He turned and stalked toward the big brick barn behind the house. Tommy went with him, wholly unbelieving and yet beginning to wonderif, just possibly, there was actually an emergency of a more normaland ghastly nature in being. Von Holtz might be a madman. He might. .. . 

Gruesome, grisly thoughts ran through Tommy's head. A madman dabblingin science might do incredible things, horrible things, and thendemand assistance to undo an unimaginable murder. .. . 

 * * * * *

Tommy was tense and alert as Von Holtz opened the door of the barnlikelaboratory. He waved the lean young man on ahead. 

"After you, " he said curtly. 

He felt almost a shiver as he entered. But the interior of thelaboratory displayed no gruesome scene. It was a huge, high-ceilingedroom with a concrete floor. A monster dynamo was over in one corner, coupled to a matter-of-fact four-cylinder crude-oil engine, to whichwas also coupled by a clutch an inexplicable windlass-drum withseveral hundred feet of chain wrapped around it. There were ammetersand voltmeters on a control panel, and one of the most delicate ofdynamometers on its own stand, and there were work benches and amotor-driven lathe and a very complete equipment for the working ofmetals. And there was an electric furnace, with splashes of solidifiedmetal on the floor beside it, and there was a miniature casting-floor, and at the farther end of the monster room there was a giganticsolenoid which evidently had once swung upon gymbals and as evidentlynow was broken, because it lay toppled askew upon its supports. 

The only totally unidentifiable piece of apparatus in the place wasone queer contrivance at one side. It looked partly like amachine-gun, because of a long brass barrel projecting from it. Butthe brass tube came out of a bulging casing of cast aluminum and therewas no opening through which shells could be fed. 

 * * * * *

Von Holz moved to that contrivance, removed a cap from the end of thebrass tube, looked carefully into the opening, and waved stiffly forTommy to look in. 

Again Tommy was suspicious; watched until Von Holtz was some distanceaway. But the instant he put his eye to the end of the brass tube heforgot all caution, all suspicion, all his doubts. He forgoteverything in his amazement. 

There was a lens in the end of the brass tube. It was, in fact, nothing more or less than a telescope, apparently looking at somethingin a closed box. But Tommy was not able to believe that he looked atan illuminated miniature for even the fraction of a second. He lookedinto the telescope, and he was seeing out-of-doors. Through thealuminum casting that enclosed the end of the tube. Through the thickbrick walls of the laboratory. He was gazing upon a landscape such asshould not--such as could not--exist upon the earth. 

There were monstrous, feathery tree-ferns waving languid fronds in abreeze that came from beyond them. The telescope seemed to be pointingat a gentle slope, and those tree-ferns cut off a farther view, butthere was an impenetrable tangle of breast-high foliage between theinstrument and that slope, and halfway up the incline there rested ahuge steel globe. 

Tommy's eyes fixed themselves upon the globe. It was man-made, ofcourse. He could see where it had been bolted together. There wereglassed-in windows in its sides, and there was a door. 

 * * * * *

As Tommy looked, that door opened partway, stopped as if someonewithin had hesitated, and then opened fully. A man came out. And Tommysaid dazedly:

"My God!"

Because the man was a perfectly commonplace sort of individual, dressed in a perfectly commonplace fashion, and he carried a perfectlycommonplace briar pipe in his hand. Moreover, Tommy recognized him. Hehad seen pictures of him often enough, and he was Professor EdwardDenham, entitled to put practically all the letters of the alphabetafter his name, the author of "Polymerization of the Pseudo-MetallicNitrides" and the proper owner of this building and its contents. ButTommy saw him against a background of tree-ferns such as should havebeen extinct upon this earth since the Carboniferous Period, somemillions of years ago. 

He was looking hungrily at his briar pipe. Presently he began to huntcarefully about on the ground. He picked together half a handful ofbrownish things which had to be dried leaves. He stuffed them into thepipe, struck a match, and lighted it. He puffed away gloomily, surrounded by wholly monstrous vegetation. A butterfly fluttered overthe top of the steel globe. Its wings were fully a yard across. Itflittered lightly to a plant and seemed to wait, and abruptly a vividcarmine blossom opened wide; wide enough to admit it. 

Denham watched curiously enough, smoking the rank and plainlyunsatisfying dried leaves. He turned his head and spoke over hisshoulder. The door opened again. Again Tommy Reames was dazed. Becausea girl came out of the huge steel sphere--and she was a girl of themost modern and most normal sort. A trim sport frock, slim silkenlegs, bobbed hair. .. . 

Tommy did not see her face until she turned, smiling, to make somecomment to Denham. Then he saw that she was breath-takingly pretty. Heswore softly under his breath. 

 * * * * *

The butterfly backed clumsily out of the gigantic flower. It flewlightly away, its many-colored wings brilliant in the sunshine. Andthe huge crimson blossom closed slowly. 

Denham watched the butterfly go away. His eyes returned to the girlwho was smiling at the flying thing, now out of the field of vision ofthe telescope. And there was utter discouragement visible in everyline of Denham's figure. Tommy saw the girl suddenly reach out herhand and put it on Denham's shoulder. She patted it, speaking in anevident attempt to encourage him. She smiled, and talked coaxingly, and presently Denham made a queer, arrested gesture and went heavilyback into the steel globe. She followed him, though she looked wearilyall about before the door closed behind her, and when Denham could notsee her face, her expression was tired and anxious indeed. 

Tommy had forgotten Von Holtz, had forgotten the laboratory, hadforgotten absolutely everything. If his original suspicions of VonHoltz had been justified, he could have been killed half a dozen timesover. He was oblivious to everything but the sight before his eyes. 

Now he felt a touch on his shoulder and drew his head away with ajerk. Von Holtz was looking down at him, very pale, with hisweak-looking eyes anxious. 

"They are still all right?" he demanded. 

"Yes, " said Tommy dazedly. "Surely. Who is that girl?"

"That is the Herr Professor's daughter Evelyn, " said Von Holtzuneasily. "I suggest, Herr Reames, that you swing the dimensoscopeabout. "

"The--what?" asked Tommy, still dazed by what he had seen. 

"The dimensoscope. This. " Von Holtz shifted the brass tube. The wholething was mounted so that it could be swung in any direction. Themounting was exactly like that of a normal telescope. Tommy instantlyput his eye to the eyepiece again. 

 * * * * *

He saw more tree-ferns, practically the duplicates of the backgroundbeyond the globe. Nothing moved save small, fugitive creatures amongtheir fronds. He swung the telescope still farther. The landscapeswept by before his eyes. The tree-fern forest drew back. He saw thebeginning of a vast and noisome morass, over which lay a thick haze asof a stream raised by the sun. He saw something move in that morass;something huge and horrible with a long and snake-like neck and thetiniest of heads at the end of it. But he could not see the thingclearly. 

He swung the telescope yet again. And he looked over miles and milesof level, haze-blanketed marsh. Here and there were clumps of tallervegetation. Here and there were steaming, desolate pools. And three orfour times he saw monstrous objects moving about clumsily in themarsh-land. 

But then a glitter at the skyline caught his eye. He tilted thetelescope to see more clearly, and suddenly he caught his breath. There, far away at the very horizon, was a city. It was tall andgleaming and very strange. No earthly city ever flung its towers sosplendidly high and soaring. No city ever built by man gave off thefiery gleam of gold from all its walls and pinnacles. It looked likean artist's dream, hammered out in precious metal, with its outlinessoftened by the haze of distance. 

And something was moving in the air near the city. Staring, tense, again incredulous, Tommy Reames strained his eyes and saw that it wasa machine. An air-craft; a flying-machine of a type wholly unlikeanything ever built upon the planet Earth. It swept steadily andswiftly toward the city, dwindling as it went. It swooped downwardtoward one of the mighty spires of the city of golden gleams, andvanished. 

 * * * * *

It was with a sense of shock, of almost physical shock, that Tommycame back to realization of his surroundings to feel Von Holtz's handupon his shoulder and to hear the lean young man saying harshly:

"Well, Herr Reames? Are you convinced that I did not lie to you? Areyou convinced that the Herr Professor Denham is in need of help?"

Tommy blinked dazedly as he looked around the laboratory again. Brickwalls, an oil-spattered crude-oil engine in one corner, a concretefloor and an electric furnace and a casting-box. .. . 

"Why--yes. .. . " said Tommy dazedly. "Yes. Of course!" Clarity came tohis brain with a jerk. He did not understand at all, but he believedwhat he had seen. Denham and his daughter were somewhere in some otherdimension, yet within range of the extraordinary device he had lookedthrough. And they were in trouble. So much was evident from theirposes and their manner. "Of course, " he repeated. "They're--there, wherever it is, and they can't get back. They don't seem to be in anyimminent danger. .. . "

Von Holtz licked his lips. 

"The Ragged Men have not found them yet, " he said in a hushed, harshvoice. "Before they went in the globe we saw the Ragged Men. Wewatched them. If they do find the Herr Professor and his daughter, they will kill them very slowly, so that they will take days ofscreaming agony to die. It is that that I am afraid of, Herr Reames. The Ragged Men roam the tree-fern forests. If they find the HerrProfessor they will trace each nerve to its root of agony until hedies. And we will be able only to watch. .. . "

CHAPTER II

"The thing is, " said Tommy feverishly, "that we've got to find a wayto get them back. Whether it duplicates Denham's results or not. Howfar away are they?"

"A few hundred yards, perhaps, " said Von Holtz wearily, "or tenmillion miles. It is the same thing. They are in a place where thefifth dimension is the dominant coordinate. "

Tommy was pacing up and down the laboratory. He stopped and lookedthrough the eyepiece of the extraordinary vision apparatus. He torehimself away from it again. 

"How does this thing work?" he demanded. 

Von Holtz began to unscrew two wing-nuts which kept the top of thealuminum casting in place. 

"It is the first piece of apparatus which Professor Denham made, " hesaid precisely. "I know the theory, but I cannot duplicate it. Everydimension is at right angles to all other dimensions, of course. TheHerr Professor has a note, here--"

He stopped his unscrewing to run over a heap of papers on thework-bench--papers over which he seemed to have been poringdesperately at the time of Tommy's arrival. He handed a sheet toTommy, who read:

"If a creature who was aware of only two dimensions made tworight-angled objects and so placed them that all the angles formed bythe combination were right angles, he would contrive a figurerepresented by the corner of a box; he would discover a thirddimension. Similarly, if a three-dimensioned man took three rightangles and placed them so that all the angles formed were rightangles, he would discover a fourth dimension. This, however, wouldprobably be the time dimension, and to travel in time would instantlybe fatal. But with four right angles he could discover a fifthdimension, and with five right angles he could discover a sixth. .. . "

 * * * * *

Tommy Reames put down the paper impatiently. 

"Of course" he said brusquely. "I know all that stuff. But up to thepresent time nobody has been able to put together even three rightangles, in practise. "

Von Holtz had returned to the unscrewing of the wing-nuts. He liftedoff the cover of the dimensoscope. 

"It is the thing the Herr Professor did not confide to me, " he saidbitterly. "The secret. The one secret! Look in here. "

Tommy looked. The objective-glass at the end of the telescope faced amirror, which was inclined to its face at an angle of forty-fivedegrees. A beam of light from the objective would be reflected to asecond mirror, twisted in a fashion curiously askew. Then the lightwould go to a third mirror. .. . 

Tommy looked at that third mirror, and instantly his eyes ached. Heclosed them and opened them again. Again they stung horribly. It wasexactly the sort of eye-strain which comes of looking through a lenswhich does not focus exactly, or through a strange pair of eyeglasses. He could see the third mirror, but his eyes hurt the instant theylooked upon it, as if that third mirror were distorted in animpossible fashion. He was forced to draw them away. He could see, though, that somehow that third mirror would reflect his imaginarybeam of light into a fourth mirror of which he could see only theedge. He moved his head--and still saw only the edge of a mirror. Hewas sure of what he saw, because he could look into the wavy, bluishtranslucency all glass shows upon its edge. He could even see the thinlayer of silver backing. But he could not put himself into a positionin which more than the edge of that mirror was visible. 

"Good Lord!" said Tommy Reames feverishly. "That mirror--"

"A mirror at forty-five degrees, " said Von Holtz precisely, "reflectslight at a right angle. There are four mirrors, and each bends a rayof light through a right angle which is also a right angle to all theothers. The result is that the dimensoscope looks into what is a fifthdimension, into which no man ever looked before. But I cannot moveother mirrors into the positions they have in this instrument. I donot know how. "

 * * * * *

Tommy shook his head impatiently, staring at the so-simple, yetincredible device whose theory had been mathematically provennumberless times, but never put into practice before. 

"Having made this device, " said Von Holtz, "the Herr Professorconstructed what he termed a catapult. It was a coil of wire, like thelarge machine there. It jerked a steel ball first vertically, thenhorizontally, then laterally, then in a fourth-dimensional direction, and finally projected it violently off in a fifth-dimensional path. Hemade small hollow steel balls and sent a butterfly, a small sparrow, and finally a cat into that other world. The steel balls opened ofthemselves and freed those creatures. They seemed to suffer nodistress. Therefore he concluded that it would be safe for him to go, himself. His daughter refused to permit him to go alone, and he was sosure of his safety that he allowed her to enter the globe with him. She did. I worked the catapult which flung the globe in the fifthdimension, and his device for returning failed to operate. Hence he ismarooned. "

"But the big catapult--"

"Can you not see that the big catapult is broken?" demanded Von Holtzbitterly. "A special metal is required for the missing parts. That, Iknow how to make. Yes. I can supply that. But I cannot shape it! Icannot design the gears which will move it as it should be moved! Icannot make another dimensoscope. I cannot, Herr Reames, calculate anymethod of causing four right angles to be all at right angles to eachother. It is my impossibility! It is for that that I have appealed toyou. You see it has been done. I see that it is done. I can make themetal which alone can be moved in the necessary direction. But Icannot calculate any method of moving it in that direction! If you cando so, Herr Reames, we can perhaps save the Herr Professor Denham. Ifyou cannot--Gott! The death he will die is horrible to think of!"

"And his daughter, " said Tommy grimly. "His daughter, also. "

 * * * * *

He paced up and down the laboratory again. Von Holtz moved to thework-bench from which he had taken Denham's note. There was a pile ofsuch memoranda, thumbed over and over. And there were papers in theangular, precise handwriting which was Von Holtz's own, andcalculations and speculations and the remains of frantic efforts towork out, somehow, the secret which as one manifestation had placedone mirror so that it hurt the eyes to look at it, and one othermirror so that from every angle of a normal existence, one could seeonly the edge. 

"I have worked, Herr Reames, " said Von Holtz drearily. "Gott! How Ihave worked! But the Herr Professor kept some things secret, and thatso-essential thing is one of them. "

Presently he said tiredly:

"The dimension-traveling globe was built in this laboratory. It restedhere. " He pointed. "The Herr Professor was laughing and excited at themoment of departure. His daughter smiled at me through the window ofthe globe. There was an under-carriage with wheels upon it. You cannotsee those wheels through the dimensoscope. They got into the globe andclosed the door. The Herr Professor nodded to me through the glasswindow. The dynamo was running at its fullest speed. The laboratorysmelled of hot oil, and of ozone from the sparks. I lifted my hand, and the Herr Professor nodded again, and I threw the switch. Thisswitch, Herr Reames! It sparked as I closed it, and the flash partlyblinded me. But I saw the globe rush toward the giant catapult yonder. It leaped upward into the huge coil, which whirled madly. Dazed, I sawthe globe hanging suspended in mid-air, two feet from the floor. Itshook! Once! Twice! With violence! Suddenly its outline became hazyand distorted. My eyes ached with looking at it. And then it wasgone!"

 * * * * *

Von Holtz's arms waved melodramatically. 

"I rushed to the dimensoscope and gazed through it into the fifthdimension. I saw the globe floating onward through the air, towardthat bank of glossy ferns. I saw it settle and turn over, and thenslowly right itself as it came to rest. The Herr Professor got out ofit. I saw him through the instrument which could look into thedimension into which he had gone. He waved his hand to me. Hisdaughter joined him, surveying the strange cosmos in which they were. The Herr Professor plucked some of the glossy ferns, took photographs, then got back into the globe. 

"I awaited its return to our own world. I saw it rock slightly as heworked upon the apparatus within. I knew that when it vanished fromthe dimensoscope it would have returned to our own universe. But itremained as before. It did not move. After three hours of anguishedwaiting, the Herr Professor came out and made signals to me ofdespair. By gestures, because no sound could come through thedimensoscope itself, he begged me to assist him. And I was helpless!Made helpless by the Herr Professor's own secrecy! For four days andnights I have toiled, hoping desperately to discover what the HerrProfessor had hidden from me. At last I thought of you. I telegraphedto you. If you can assist me. .. . "

"I'm going to try it, of course, " said Tommy shortly. 

He paced back and forth. He stopped and looked through the brass-tubedtelescope. Giant tree-ferns, unbelievable but real. The steel globeresting partly overturned upon a bank of glossy ferns. Breast-high, incredible foliage between the point of vision and that extraordinaryvehicle. 

 * * * * *

While Tommy had been talking and listening, while he had been awayfrom the eyepiece, one or other of the occupants of the globe hademerged from it. The door was open. But now the girl came boundingsuddenly through the ferns. She called, though it seemed to Tommy thatthere was a curious air of caution even in her calling. She wasexcited, hopefully excited. 

Denham came out of the globe with a clumsy club in his hand. ButEvelyn caught his arm and pointed up into the sky. Denham stared, andthen began to make wild and desperate gestures as if trying to attractattention to himself. 

Tommy watched for minutes, and then swung the dimensoscope around. Itwas extraordinary, to be sitting in the perfectly normal brick-walledlaboratory, looking into a slender brass tube, and seeing anotheruniverse entirely, another wild and unbelievable landscape. 

The tree-fern forest drew back and the vast and steaming morass wasagain in view. There were distant bright golden gleams from the city. But Tommy was searching the sky, looking in the sky of a world in thefifth dimension for a thing which would make a man gesticulatehopefully. 

He found it. It was an aircraft, startlingly close through thetelescope. A single figure was seated at its controls, motionless asif bored, with exactly the air of a weary truck driver piloting avehicle along a roadway he does not really see. And Tommy, being nearenough to see the pilot's pose, could see the aircraft clearly. It wastotally unlike a terrestrial airplane. A single huge and thick wingsupported it. But the wing was angular and clumsy-seeming, and itsform was devoid of the grace of an earthly aircraft wing, and therewas no tail whatever to give it the appearance of a living thing. There was merely a long, rectangular wing with a framework beneath it, and a shimmering thing which was certainly not a screw propeller, butwhich seemed to draw it. 

 * * * * *

It moved on steadily and swiftly, dwindling in the distance, with itsmotionless pilot seated before a mass of corded bundles. It looked asif this were a freight plane of some sort, and therefore made in astrictly utilitarian fashion. 

It vanished in the haze above the monster swamp, going in a straightline for the golden city at the world's edge. 

Tommy stared at it, long after it had ceased to be visible. Then hesaw a queer movement on the earth near the edge of the morass. Figureswere moving. Human figures. He saw four of them, shaking clenchedfists and capering insanely, seeming to bellow insults after theoblivious and now invisible flying thing. He could see that they werenearly naked, and that one of them carried a spear. But theindubitable glint of metal was reflected from one of them for aninstant, when some metal accoutrement about him glittered in thesunlight. 

They moved from sight behind thick, feathery foliage, and Tommy swungback the brass tube to see the globe again. Denham and his daughterwere staring in the direction in which Tommy had seen those humanfigures. Denham clutched his clumsy club grimly. His face was drawnand his figure tensed. And suddenly Evelyn spoke quietly, and the twoof then dived into the fern forest and disappeared. Minutes later theyreturned, dragging masses of tree-fern fronds with which they maskedthe globe from view. They worked hastily, desperately, concealing thesteel vehicle from sight. And then Denham stared tensely all about, shading his eyes with his hand. He and the girl withdrew cautiouslyinto the forest. 

 * * * * *

It was minutes later that Tommy was roused by Von Holtz's hand on hisshoulder. 

"What has happened, Herr Reames?" he asked uneasily. "The--RaggedMen?"

"I saw men, " said Tommy briefly, "shaking clenched fists at anaircraft flying overhead. And Denham and his daughter have hidden theglobe behind a screen of foliage. "

Von Holtz licked his lips fascinatedly. 

"The Ragged Men, " he said in a hushed voice. "The Herr Professorcalled them that, because they cannot be of the people who live in theGolden City. They hate the people of the Golden City. I think thatthey are bandits; renegades, perhaps. They live in the tree-fernforests and scream curses at the airships which fly overhead. And theyare afraid of those airships. "

"How long did Denham use this thing to look through, before he builthis globe?"

Von Holtz considered. 

"Immediately it worked, " he said at last, "he began work on a smallcatapult. It took him one week to devise exactly how to make that. Heexperimented with it for some days and began to make the large globe. That took nearly two months--the globe and the large catapulttogether. And also the dimensoscope was at hand. His daughter lookedthrough it more than he did, or myself. "

"He should have known what he was up against, " said Tommy, frowning. "He ought to have taken guns, at least. Is he armed?"

Von Holtz shook his head. 

"He expected to return at once, " he said desperately. "Do you see, Herr Reames, the position it puts me in? I may be suspected of murder!I am the Herr Professor's assistant. He disappears. Will I not beaccused of having put him out of the way?"

"No, " said Tommy thoughtfully. "You won't. " He glanced through thebrass tube and paced up and down the room. "You telephone for someoneto repair my car, " he said suddenly and abruptly. "I am going to stayhere and work this thing out. I've got just the glimmering of an idea. But I'll need my car in running order, in case we have to go out andget materials in a hurry. "

 * * * * *

Von Holtz bowed stiffly and went out of the laboratory. Tommy lookedafter him. Even moved to make sure he was gone. And then Tommy Reameswent quickly to the work bench on which were the littered notes andcalculations Von Holtz had been using and which were now at hisdisposal. But Tommy did not leaf through them. He reached under theblotter beneath the whole pile. He had seen Von Holtz furtively pushsomething out of sight, and he had disliked and distrusted Von Holtzfrom the beginning. Moreover, it was pretty thoroughly clear thatDenham had not trusted him too much. A trusted assistant should beable to understand, at least, any experiment performed in alaboratory. 

A folded sheet of paper came out. Tommy glanced at it. 

 "You messed things up right! Denham marooned and you got nothing. No plans or figures either. When you get them, you get your money. If you don't you are out of luck. If this Reames guy can't fix up what you want it'll be just too bad for you. "

There was no salutation nor any signature beyond a scrawled andsprawling "J. "

Tommy Reames' jaw set grimly. He folded the scrap of paper and thrustit back out of sight again. 

"Pretty!" he said harshly. "So a gentleman named 'J' is going to payVon Holtz for plans or calculations it is hoped I'll provide! Whichsuggests--many things! But at least I'll have Von Holtz's help untilhe thinks my plans or calculations are complete. So that's allright. .. . "

Tommy could not be expected, of course, to guess that the note he hadread was quite astounding proof of the interest taken in non-Euclideangeometry by a vice king of Chicago, or that the ranking beer baron ofthat metropolis was the man who was so absorbed in abstruse theoreticphysics. 

 * * * * *

Tommy moved toward the great solenoid which lay askew upon its wreckedsupport. It had drawn the steel globe toward it, had made that globevibrate madly, twice, and then go hazy and vanish. It had jerked theglobe in each of five directions, each at right angles to all theothers, and had released it when started in the fifth dimension. Thehuge coil was quite nine feet across and would take the steel globeeasily. It was pivoted in concentric rings which made up a set ofgymbals far more elaborate than were ever used to suspend a mariner'scompass aboard ship. 

There were three rings, one inside the other. And two rings will takecare of any motion in three dimensions. These rings were pivoted, too, so that an unbelievably intricate series of motions could be given tothe solenoid within them all. But the device was broken, now. A pivothad given away, and shaft and socket alike had vanished. Tommy becameabsorbed. Some oddity bothered him. .. . 

He pieced the thing together mentally. And he exclaimed suddenly. There had been four rings of metal! One was gone! He comprehended, very suddenly. The third mirror in the dimensoscope was the one sostrangely distorted by its position, which was at half of a rightangle to all the dimensions of human experience. It was the third ringin the solenoid's supports which had vanished. And Tommy, staring atthe gigantic apparatus and summoning all his theoretic knowledge andall his brain to work, saw the connection between the two things. 

"The time dimension and the world-line, " he said sharply, excited inspite of himself. "Revolving in the time dimension means telescopingin the world-line. .. . It would be a strain no matter could endure. .. . "

 * * * * *

The mirror in the dimensoscope was not pointing in a fourth dimension. It did not need to. It was reflecting light at a right angle, andhence needed to be only at half of a right angle to the two courses ofthe beam it reflected. But to whirl the steel globe into a fifthdimension, the solenoid's support had for one instant to revolve intime! For the fraction of a second it would have literally to passthrough its own substance. It would be required to undergo preciselythe sort of strain involved in turning a hollow seamless metal globe, inside out! No metal could stand such a strain. No form of matterknown to man could endure it. 

"It would explode!" said Tommy excitedly to himself, alone in thegreat bare laboratory. "Steel itself would vaporize! It would wreckthe place!"

And then he looked blank. Because the place had very obviously notbeen wrecked. And yet a metal ring had vanished, leaving no trace. .. . 

Von Holtz came back. He looked frightened. 

"A--a repairman, Herr Reames, " he said, stammering, "is on the way. And--Herr Reames. .. . "

Tommy barely heard him. For a moment, Tommy was all scientist, confronted with the inexplicable, yet groping with a blind certaintytoward a conclusion he very vaguely foresaw. He waved his handimpatiently. .. . 

"The Herr Jacaro is on the way here, " stammered Von Holtz. 

 * * * * *

Tommy blinked, remembering that Von Holtz had told him he could make acertain metal, the only metal which could be moved in the fourthdimension. 

"Jacaro?" he said blankly. 

"The--friend of the Herr Professor Denham. He advanced the money forthe Herr Professor's experiments. "

Tommy heard him with only half his brain, though that half instantlydecided that Von Holtz was lying. The only Jacaro Tommy knew of was aprominent gangster from Chicago, who had recently cemented hisposition in Chicago's underworld by engineering the amalgamation oftwo once-rival gangs. Tommy knew, in a vague fashion, that Von Holtzwas frightened. That he was terrified in some way. And that he wasinordinately suspicious of someone, and filled with a queerdesperation. 

"Well?" said Tommy abstractedly. The thought he needed was coming. Ametal which would have full tensile strength up to a certain instant, and then disrupt itself without violence into a gas, a vapor. .. . Itwould be an alloy, perhaps. It would be. .. . 

He struck at his own head with his clenched fist, angrily demandingthat his brain bring forth the thought that was forming slowly. Themetal that could be revolved in time without producing a disastrousexplosion and without requiring an impossible amount of power. .. . 

 * * * * *

He did not see Von Holtz looking in the eyepiece of the dimensoscope. He stared at nothing, thinking concentratedly, putting every bit ofenergy into sheer thought. And suddenly, like the explosion he soughta way to avoid, the answer came, blindingly clear. 

He surveyed that answer warily. A tremendous excitement filled him. 

"I've got it!" he said softly to himself. "By God, I know how he didthe thing!"

And as if through a mist the figure of Von Holtz became clear beforehis eyes. Von Holtz was looking into the dimensoscope tube. He wasstaring into that other, extraordinary world in which Denham and hisdaughter were marooned. And Von Holtz's face was utterly, deathlywhite, and he was making frantic, repressed gestures, and whisperinglittle whimpering phrases to himself. They were unintelligible, butthe deathly pallor of his cheeks, and the fascinated, dribblingfullness of his lips brought Tommy Reames suddenly down to earth. 

"What's happening?" demanded Tommy sharply. 

Von Holtz did not answer. He made disjointed, moaning littleexclamations to himself. He was twitching horribly as he lookedthrough the telescope into that other world. .. . 

Tommy flung him aside and clapped his own eye to the eyepiece. Andthen he groaned. 

 * * * * *

The telescope was pointed at the steel globe upon that ferny bank, nomore than a few hundred yards away but two dimensions removed fromEarth. The screening mass of tree-fronds had been torn away. A swarmof ragged, half-naked men was gathered about the globe. They werearmed with spears and clubs, in the main, but there were other weaponsof intricate design whose uses Tommy could not even guess at. He didnot try. He was watching the men as they swarmed about and over thesteel sphere. Their faces were brutal and savage, and now they weredistorted with an insane hate. It was the same awful, gibbering hatredhe had sensed in the caperings of the four he had seen bellowingvituperation at an airplane. 

They were not savages. Somehow he could not envision them asprimitive. Their features were hard-bitten, seamed with hatred andwith vice unspeakable. And they were white. The instant impression anyman would have received was that here were broken men; fugitives, bandits, assassins. Here were renegades or worse from some higher, civilized race. 

They battered hysterically upon the steel globe. It was not the attackof savages upon a strange thing. It was the assault of desperate, broken men upon a thing they hated. A glass pane splintered andcrashed. Spears were thrust into the opening, while mouths opened asif in screams of insane fury. And then, suddenly, the door of theglobe flew wide. 

The Ragged Men did not wait for anyone to come out. They fought eachother to get into the opening, their eyes glaring madly, filled withthe lust to kill. 

CHAPTER III

A battered and antiquated flivver came chugging down the wire-fencedlane to the laboratory, an hour later. It made a prodigious din, andTommy Reames went out to meet it. He was still a little pale. He hadwatched the steel globe turned practically inside out by the RaggedMen. He had seen them bringing out cameras, cushions, and even thepadding of the walls, to be torn to bits in a truly maniacal fury. Buthe had not seen one sign of a human being killed. Denham and hisdaughter had not been in the globe when it was found and ransacked. Sofar, then, they were probably safe. Tommy had seen them vanish intothe tree-fern forest. They had been afraid, and with good reason. Whatdangers they might encounter in the fern forest he could not guess. How long they would escape the search of the Ragged Men, he could notknow. How he could ever hope to find them if he succeeded induplicating Denham's dimension-traveling apparatus he could not eventhink of, just now. But the Ragged Men were not searching the fernforest. So much was sure. They were encamped by the steel sphere, anda scurvy-looking lot they were. 

Coming out of the brick laboratory, Tommy saw a brawny figure gettingout of the antiquated flivver whose arrival had been so thunderous. That brawny figure nodded to him and grinned. Tommy recognized him. The red-headed, broad-shouldered filling station attendant in the lastvillage, who had given him specific directions for reaching thisplace. 

"You hit that gate a lick, didn't you?" asked the erstwhile fillingstation attendant amiably. "Mr. Von Holtz said you had a flat and abusted radiator. That right?"

 * * * * *

Tommy nodded. The red-headed man walked around the car, scratched hischin, and drew out certain assorted tools. He put them on the grasswith great precision, pumped a gasoline blow-torch to pressure andtouched a match to its priming-basin, and while the gasoline flamedsmokily he made a half dozen casual movements with a file, and thebroken radiator tube was exposed for repair. 

He went back to the torch and observed placidly:

"The Professor ain't around, is he?"

Tommy shook his head. 

"Thought not, " said the red-headed one. "He gen'rally comes out andtalks a while. I helped him build some of them dinkuses in the barnyonder. "

Tommy said eagerly:

"Say, which of those things did you help him build? That big thingwith the solenoid--the coil?"

"Yeah. How'd it work?" The red-headed one set a soldering iron inplace and began to jack up the rear wheel to get at the tire. "Crazyidea, if you ask me. I told Miss Evelyn so. She laughed and said she'dbe in the ball when it was tried. Did it work?"

"Too damn well, " said Tommy briefly. "I've got to repair thatsolenoid. How about a job helping?"

The red-headed man unfastened the lugs of the rim, kicked the tirespeculatively, and said, "Gone to hell. " He put on the spare tire withease and dispatch. 

"Um, " he said. "How about that Mr. Von Holtz? Is he goin' to boss thejob?"

"He is not, " said Tommy, with a shade of grimness in his tone. 

 * * * * *

The red-headed man nodded and took the soldering iron in hand. Heunwound a strip of wire solder, mended the radiator tube with placidease, and seemed to bang the cooling-flanges with a total lack ofcare. They went magically back into place, and it took closeinspection to see that the radiator had been damaged. 

"She's all right, " he observed. He regarded Tommy impersonally. "Suppose you tell me how come you horn in on this, " he suggested, "an'maybe I'll play. That guy Von Holtz is a crook, if you ask me abouthim. "

Tommy ran his hand across his forehead, and told him. 

"Um, " said the red-headed man calmly. "I think I'll go break Mr. VonHoltz's neck. I got me a hunch. "

He took two deliberate steps forward. But Tommy said:

"I saw Denham not an hour ago. So far, he's all right. How long he'llbe all right is a question. But I'm going after him. "

The red-headed man scrutinized him exhaustively. 

"Um. I might try that myself. I kinda like the Professor. An' MissEvelyn. My name's Smithers. Let's go look through the dinkus theProfessor made. "

They went together into the laboratory. Von Holtz was looking throughthe dimensoscope. He started back as they entered, and looked acutelyuneasy when he saw the red-headed man. 

"How do you do, " he said nervously. "They--the Ragged Men--have justbrought in a dead man. But it is not the Herr Professor. "

Without a word, Tommy took the brass tube in his hand. Von Holtz movedaway, biting his lips. Tommy stared into that strange other world. 

 * * * * *

The steel sphere lay as before, slightly askew upon a bank of glossyferns. But its glass windows were shattered, and fragments ofeverything it had contained were scattered about. The Ragged Men hadmade a camp and built a fire. Some of them were roasting meat--thehuge limb of a monstrous animal with a scaly, reptilian hide. Otherswere engaged in vehement argument over the body of one of theirnumber, lying sprawled out upon the ground. 

Tommy spoke without moving his eyes from the eyepiece. 

"I saw Denham with a club just now. This man was killed by a club. "

The Ragged Men in the other world debated acrimoniously. One of thempointed to the dead man's belt, and spread out his hands. Somethingwas missing from the body. Tommy saw, now, three or four other menwith objects that looked rather like policemen's truncheons, save thatthey were made of glittering metal. They were plainly weapons. Denham, then, was armed--if he could understand how the weapon was used. 

The Ragged Men debated, and presently their dispute attracted theattention of a man with a huge black beard. He rose from where he satgnawing at a piece of meat and moved grandly toward the disputatiousgroup. They parted at his approach, but a single member continued thedebate against even the bearded giant. The bearded one plucked theglittering truncheon from his belt. The disputatious one gasped infear and flung himself desperately forward. But the bearded man keptthe truncheon pointed steadily. .. . The man who assailed him staggered, reached close enough to strike a single blow, and collapsed. Thebearded man pointed the metal truncheon at him as he lay upon theground. He heaved convulsively, and was still. 

The bearded man went back to his seat and picked up the gnawed bit ofmeat again. The dispute had ceased. The chattering group of mendispersed. 

 * * * * *

Tommy was about to leave the eyepiece of the instrument when amovement nearby caught his eye. A head peered cautiously toward theencampment. A second rose beside it. Denham and his daughter Evelyn. They were apparently no more than thirty feet from the dimensoscope. Tommy could see them talking cautiously, saw Denham lift and examine ametal truncheon like the bearded man's, and force his daughter toaccept it. He clutched a club, himself, with a grim satisfaction. 

Moments later they vanished quietly in the thick fern foliage, andthough Tommy swung the dimensoscope around in every direction, hecould see nothing of their retreat. 

He rose from that instrument with something approaching hopefulness. He'd seen Evelyn very near and very closely. She did not look happy, but she did look alert rather than worn. And Denham was displaying aform of competence in the face of danger which was really more thanwould have been expected in a Ph. D. , a M. A. , and other academicdistinctions running to most of the letters of the alphabet. 

"I've just seen Denham and Evelyn again, " said Tommy crisply. "They'resafe so far. And I've seen one of the weapons of the Ragged Men inuse. If we can get a couple of automatics and some cartridges toDenham, he'll be safe until we can repair the big solenoid. "

"There was the small catapult, " said Von Holtz bitterly, "but it wasdismantled. The Herr Professor saw me examining it, and he dismantledit. So that I did not learn how to calculate the way of changing theposition--"

 * * * * *

Tommy's eyes rested queerly on Von Holtz for a moment. 

"You know how to make the metal required, " he said suddenly. "You'dbetter get busy making it. Plenty of it. We'll need it. "

Von Holtz stared at him, his weak eyes almost frightened. 

"You _know_? You know how to combine the right angles?"

"I think so, " said Tommy. "I've got to find out if I'm right. Will youmake the metal?"

Von Holtz bit at his too-red lips. 

"But Herr Reames!" he said stridently, "I wish to know the equation!Tell me the method of pointing a body in a fourth or a fifthdirection. It is only fair--"

"Denham didn't tell you, " said Tommy. 

Von Holtz's arms jerked wildly. 

"But I will not make the metal! I insist upon being told the equation!I insist upon it! I will not make the metal if you do not tell me!"

Smithers was in the laboratory, of course. He had been surveying thebig solenoid-catapult and scratching his chin reflectively. Now heturned. 

 * * * * *

But Tommy took Von Holtz by the shoulders. And Tommy's hands were thefirm and sinewy hands of a sportsman, if his brain did happen to bethe brain of a scientist. Von Holtz writhed in his grip. 

"There is only one substance which could be the metal I need, Von Holtz, "he said gently. "Only one substance is nearly three-dimensional. Metallic ammonium! It's known to exist, because it makes a mercuryamalgam, but nobody has been able to isolate it because nobody hasbeen able to give it a fourth dimension--duration in time. Denham didit. You can do it. And I need it, and you'd better set to work at thejob. You'll be very sorry if you don't, Von Holtz!"

Smithers said with a vast calmness. 

"I got me a hunch. So if y'want his neck broke. .. . "

Tommy released Von Holtz and the lean young man gasped and sputteredand gesticulated wildly in a frenzy of rage. 

"He'll make it, " said Tommy coldly. "Because he doesn't dare not to!"

Von Holtz went out of the laboratory, his weak-looking eyes staringand wild, and his mouth working. 

"He'll be back, " said Tommy briefly. "You've got to make a small modelof that big catapult, Smithers. Can you do it?"

"Sure, " said Smithers. "The ring'll be copper tubing, withpin-bearings. Wind a coil on the lathe. It'll be kinda rough, butit'll do. But gears, now. .. . "

"I'll attend to them. You know how to work that metallic ammonium?"

"If that's what it was, " agreed Smithers. "I worked it for theProfessor. "

Tommy leaned close and whispered:

"You never made any gears of that. But did you make some springs?"

"Uh-huh!"

Tommy grinned joyously. 

"Then we're set and I'm right! Von Holtz wants a mathematical formula, and no one on earth could write one, but we don't need it!"

 * * * * *

Smithers rummaged around the laboratory with a casual air, acquiredthis and that and the other thing, and set to work with an astoundingabsence of waste motions. From time to time he inspected the greatcatapult thoughtfully, verified some impression, and went about theconstruction of another part. 

And when Von Holtz did not return, Tommy hunted for him. He suddenlyremembered hearing his car motor start. He found his car missing. Heswore, then, and grimly began to hunt for a telephone in the house. But before he had raised central he heard the deep-toned purring ofthe motor again. His car was coming swiftly back to the house. And hesaw, through a window, that Von Holtz was driving it. 

The lean young man got out of it, his face white with passion. Hestarted for the laboratory. Tommy intercepted him. 

"I--went to get materials for making the metal, " said Von Holtzhoarsely, repressing his rage with a great effort. "I shall begin atonce, Herr Reames. "

Tommy said nothing whatever. Von Holtz was lying. Of course. Hecarried nothing in the way of materials. But he had gone away from thehouse, and Tommy knew as definitely as if Von Holtz had told him, thatVon Holtz had gone off to communicate in safety with someone whosigned his correspondence with a J. 

Von Holtz went into the laboratory. The four-cylinder motor began tothrob at once. The whine of the dynamo arose almost immediately after. Von Holtz came out of the laboratory and dived into a shed thatadjoined the brick building. He remained in there. 

Tommy looked at the trip register on his speedometer. Like most peoplewith methodical minds, he had noted the reading on arriving at a newdestination. Now he knew how far Von Holtz had gone. He had been tothe village and back. 

"Meaning, " said Tommy grimly to himself, "that the J who wants plansand calculations is either in the village or at the end of along-distance wire. And Von Holtz said he was on the way. He'llprobably turn up and try to bribe me. "

 * * * * *

He went back into the laboratory and put his eye to the eyepiece ofthe dimensoscope. Smithers had his blow-torch going and was busilyaccumulating an apparently unrelated series of discordant bits ofqueerly-shaped metal. Tommy looked through at the strange mad world hecould see through the eyepiece. 

The tree-fern forest was still. The encampment of the Ragged Men wasnearly quiet. Sunset seemed to be approaching in this other world, though it was still bright outside the laboratory. The hours of dayand night were obviously not the same in the two worlds, so closetogether that a man could be flung from one to the other by amechanical contrivance. 

The sun seemed larger, too, than the orb which lights our normalearth. When Tommy swung the vision instrument about to search for it, he found a great red ball quite four times the diameter of our ownsun, neatly bisected by the horizon. Tommy watched, waiting for it tosink. But it did not sink straight downward as the sun seems to do inall temperate latitudes. It descended, yes, but it moved along thehorizon as it sank. Instead of a direct and forthright dip downward, the sun seemed to progress along the horizon, dipping more deeply asit swam. And Tommy watched it blankly. 

"It's not our sun. .. . But it's not our world. Yet it revolves, andthere are men on it. And a sun that size would bake the earth. .. . Andit's sinking at an angle that would only come at a latitude of--"

That was the clue. He understood at once. The instrument through whichhe regarded the strange world looked out upon the polar regions ofthat world. Here, where the sun descended slantwise, were the highlatitudes, the coldest spaces upon all the whole planet. And if herethere were the gigantic growths of a carboniferous era, the tropicregions of this planet must be literal infernos. 

And then he saw in its gradual descent the monster sun was going alongbehind the golden city, and the outlines of its buildings, themagnificence of its spires, were limned clearly for him against thedully glowing disk. 

Nowhere upon earth had such a city ever been dreamed of. No man hadever envisioned such a place, where far-flung arches interconnectedsoaring, towering columns, where curves of perfect grace were unitedin forms of utterly perfect proportion. .. . 

 * * * * *

The sunlight died, and dusk began and deepened, and vividly brilliantstars began to come out overhead, and Tommy suddenly searched theheavens eagerly for familiar constellations. And found not one. Allthe stars were strange. These stars seemed larger and much more nearthan the tiny pinpoints that blink down upon our earth. 

And then he swung the instrument again and saw great fires roaring andthe Ragged Men crouched about them. Within them, rather, because theyhad built fires about themselves as if to make a wall of flame. Andonce Tommy saw twin, monstrous eyes, gazing from the blackness of thetree-fern forest. They were huge eyes, and they were far apart, sothat the head of the creature who used them must have been enormous. And they were all of fifteen feet above the ground when theyspeculatively looked over the ring of fires and the ragged, degradedmen within them. Then that creature, whatever it was, turned away andvanished. 

But Tommy felt a curious shivering horror of the thing. It had movedsoundlessly, without a doubt, because not one of the Ragged Men hadnoted its presence. It had been kept away by the fires. But Denham andEvelyn were somewhere in the tree-fern forest, and they would not dareto make fires. .. . 

Tommy drew away from the dimensoscope, shivering. He had been lookingonly, but the place into which he looked was real, and the dangersthat lay hidden there were very genuine, and there was a man and agirl of his own race and time struggling desperately, without arms orhope, to survive. 

 * * * * *

Smithers was casually fitting together an intricate array of littlerings made of copper tubing. There were three of them, and each wasfitted into the next largest by pins which enabled them to spinnoiselessly and swiftly at the touch of Smithers' finger. He had themspinning now, each in a separate direction, and the effect wasbewildering. 

As Tommy watched, Smithers stopped them, oiled the pins carefully, andpainstakingly inserted a fourth ring. Only this ring was of a whitemetal that looked somehow more pallid than silver. It had a whitenesslike that of ivory beneath its metallic gleam. 

Tommy blinked. 

"Did Von Holtz give you that metal?" he asked suddenly. 

Smithers looked up and puffed at a short brown pipe. 

"Nope. There was some splashes of it by the castin' box. I melted 'emtogether an' run a ring. Pressed it to shape; y' can't hammer thisstuff. It goes to water and dries up quicker'n lightning--an' you holdy'nose an' run. I used it before for the Professor. "

Tommy went over to him excitedly. He picked up the little contrivanceof many concentric rings. The big motor was throbbing rhythmically, and the generator was humming at the back of the laboratory. Von Holtzwas out of sight. 

 * * * * *

With painstaking care Tommy went over the little device. He looked up. 

"A coil?"

"I wound one, " said Smithers calmly. "On the lathe. Not so hot, butit'll do, I guess. But I can't fix these rings like the Professordid. "

"I think I can, " said Tommy crisply. "Did you make some wire forsprings?"

"Yeah!"

Tommy fingered the wire. Stout, stiff, and surprisingly springy wireof the same peculiar metal. It was that metallic ammonium whichchemists have deduced must exist because of the chemical behavior ofthe compound NH3, but which Denham alone had managed to procure. Tommy deduced that it was an allotropic modification of the substancewhich forms an amalgam with mercury, as metallic tin is an allotropeof the amorphous gray powder which is tin in its normal, stable state. 

He set to work with feverish excitement. For one hour, for two heworked. At the end of that time he was explaining the matter curtly toSmithers, so intent on his work that he wholly failed to hear a motorcar outside or to realize that it had also grown dark in this world ofours. 

"You see, Smithers, if a two-dimensioned creature wanted to adjust tworight angles at right angles to each other, he'd have them laid flat, of course. And if he put a spring at the far ends of those rightangles--they'd look like a T, put together--so that the cross-bar ofthat T was under tension, he'd have the equivalent of what I'm doing. To make a three-dimensioned figure, that imaginary man would have tobend one side of the cross-bar up. As if the two ends of it were undertension by a spring, and the spring would only be relieved of tensionwhen that cross-bar was bent. But the vertical would be his timedimension, so he'd have to have something thin, or it couldn't bebent. He'd need something 'thin in time. '

"We have the same problem. But metallic ammonium is 'thin in time. 'It's so fugitive a substance that Denham is the only man ever tosecure it. So we use these rings and adjust these springs to them sothey're under tension which will only be released when they're all atright angles to each other. In our three dimensions that's impossible, but we have a metal that can revolve in a fourth, and we reinforcetheir tendency to adjust themselves by starting them off with a jerk. We've got 'em flat. They'll make a good stiff jerk when they try toadjust themselves. And the solenoid's a bit eccentric--"

"Shut up!" snapped Smithers suddenly. 

 * * * * *

He was facing the door, bristling. Von Holtz was in the act of comingin, with a beefy, broad-shouldered man with blue jowls. Tommystraightened up, thought swiftly, and then smiled grimly. 

"Hullo, Von Holtz, " he said pleasantly. "We've just completed a modelcatapult. We're all set to try it out. Watch!"

He set a little tin can beneath the peculiar device of copper-tubingrings. The can was wholly ordinary, made of thin sheet-iron platedwith tin as are all the tin cans of commerce. 

"You have the catapult remade?" gasped Von Holtz. "Wait! Wait! Let melook at it!"

For one instant, and one instant only, Tommy let him see. The massedset of concentric rings, each one of them parallel to all the others. It looked rather like a flat coil of tubing; certainly like noparticularly obscure form of projector. But as Von Holtz's weak eyesfastened avidly upon it, Tommy pressed the improvised electric switch. At once that would energize the solenoid and release all the tensedsprings from their greater tension, for an attempt to reach apermanent equilibrium. 

As Von Holtz and the blue-jowled man stared, the little tin can leapedupward into the tiny coil. The small copper rings twinkled one withinthe other as the springs operated. The tin can was wrenched this wayand that, then for the fraction of a second hurt the eyes that gazedupon it--and it was gone! And then the little coil came spinning downto the work bench top from its broken bearings and the remainingcopper rings spun aimlessly for a moment. But the third ring ofwhitish metal had vanished utterly, and so had the coiled-wire springswhich Von Holtz had been unable to distinguish. And there was anoverpowering smell of ammonia in the room. 

 * * * * *

Von Holtz flung himself upon the still-moving little instrument. Heinspected it savagely, desperately. His full red lips drew back in asnarl. 

"How did you do it?" he cried shrilly. "You must tell me! I--I--I willkill you if you do not tell me!"

The blue-jowled man was watching Von Holtz. Now his lips twisteddisgustedly. He turned to Tommy and narrowed his eyes. 

"Look here, " he rumbled. "This fool's no good! I want the secret ofthat trick you did. What's your price?"

"I'm not for sale, " said Tommy, smiling faintly. 

The blue-jowled man regarded him with level eyes. 

"My name's Jacaro, " he said after an instant. "Maybe you've heard ofme. I'm from Chicago. "

Tommy smiled more widely. 

"To be sure, " he admitted. "You were the man who introducedmachine-guns into gang warfare, weren't you? Your gunmen lined up halfa dozen of the Buddy Haines gang against a wall and wiped them out, Ibelieve. What do you want this secret for?"

The level eyes narrowed. They looked suddenly deadly. 

"That's my business, " said Jacaro briefly. "You know who I am. And Iwant that trick y'did. I got my own reasons. I'll pay for it. Plenty. You know I got plenty to pay, too. Or else--"

"What?"

"Something'll happen to you, " said Jacaro briefly. "I ain't sayin''what. But it's damn likely you'll tell what I want to know before it'sfinished. Name your price and be damn quick!"

Tommy took his hand out of his pocket. He had a gun in it. 

"The only possible answer to that, " he said suavely, "is to tell youto go to hell. Get out! But Von Holtz stays here. He'd better!"

CHAPTER IV

Within half an hour after Jacaro's leaving, Smithers was in thevillage, laying in a stock of supplies and sending telegrams thatTommy had written out for transmission. Tommy sat facing an ashen VonHoltz and told him pleasantly what would be done to him if he failedto make the metallic ammonium needed to repair the big solenoid. In anhour, Smithers was back, reporting that Jacaro was also sendingtelegrams but that he, Smithers, had stood over the telegraph operatoruntil his own messages were transmitted. He brought back weapons, too--highly illegal things to have in New York State, where a citizenis only law-abiding when defenseless. And then four days of hectic, sleepless labor began. 

On the first day one of Tommy's friends drove in in answer to atelegram. It was Peter Dalzell, with men in uniform apparentlyfestooned about his car. He announced that a placard warning passersbyof smallpox within, had been added to the decorative signs upon thegate, and stared incredulously at the interior of the big brick barn. Tommy grinned at him and gave him plans and specifications of a lightsteel globe in which two men might be transported into the fifthdimension by a suitably operating device. Tommy had sat up all nightdrawing those plans. He told Dalzell just enough of what he was upagainst to enlist Dalzell's enthusiastic cooperation withoutpermitting him to doubt Tommy's sanity. Dalzell had known Tommy as anamateur tennis player, but not as a scientist. 

He marveled, refused to believe his eyes when he looked through thedimensoscope, and agreed that the whole thing had to be kept secret orthe rescue expedition would be prevented from starting by theincarceration of both Tommy and Smithers in comfortable insaneasylums. He feigned to admire Von Holtz, deathly white and nearlyfrantic with a corroding rage, and complimented Tommy on his taste forillegality. He even asked Von Holtz if he wanted to leave, and VonHoltz snarled insults at him. Von Holtz was beginning to work at themanufacture of metallic ammonium. 

 * * * * *

It was an electrolytic process, of course. Ordinarily, when--say--ammonium chloride is broken down by an electric current, ammonium is deposited at the cathode and instantly becomes a gas whichdissolves in the water or bubbles up to the surface. With a mercurycathode, it is dissolved and becomes a metallic amalgam, which alsobreaks down into gas with much bubbling of the mercury. But Denham hadworked out a way of delaying the breaking-down, which left him with acuriously white, spongy mass of metal which could be carefully melteddown and cast, but not under any circumstances violently struck orstrained. 

Von Holtz was working at that. On the second day he delivered, snarling, a small ingot of the white metal. He was imprisoned in thelean-to-shed in which the electrolysis went on. But Tommy had morethan a suspicion that he was in communication with Jacaro. 

"Of course, " he said drily to Smithers, who had expressed his doubts. "Jacaro had somebody sneak up and talk to him through the walls, ormaybe through a bored hole. While there's a hope of finding out whathe wants to know through Von Holtz, Jacaro won't try anything. Notanything rough, anyhow. We mustn't be bumped off while what we aredoing is in our heads alone. We're safe enough--for a while. "

Smithers grumbled. 

"We need that ammonium, " said Tommy, "and I don't know how to make it. I bluffed that I could, and in time I might, but it would need timeand meanwhile Denham needs us. Dalzell is going to send a plane overtoday, with word of when we can expect our own globe. We'll try tohave the big catapult ready when it comes. And the plane will dropsome extra supplies. I've ordered a sub-machine gun. Handy when we getover there in the tree-fern forests. Right now, though, we need to bewatching. .. . "

Because they were taking turns looking through the dimensoscope. Forsigns of Denham and Evelyn. And Tommy was finding himself thinkingwholly unscientific thoughts about Evelyn, since a pretty girl indifficulties is of all possible things the one most likely to make aman romantic. 

 * * * * *

In the four days of their hardest working, he saw her three times. Theglobe was wrecked and ruined. Its glass was broken out and itsinterior ripped apart. It had been pillaged so exhaustively that therewas no hope that whatever device had been included in its design, forits return, remained even repairably intact. That device had notworked, to be sure, but Tommy puzzled sometimes over the fact that hehad seen no mechanical device of any sort in the plunder that had beenbrought out to be demolished. But he did not think of those thingswhen he saw Evelyn. 

The Ragged Men's encampment was gone, but she and her father lingeredfurtively, still near the pillaged globe. The first day Tommy saw her, she was still blooming and alert. The second day she was paler. Herclothing was ripped and torn, as if by thorns. Denham had a great rawwound upon his forehead, and his coat was gone and half his shirt wasin ribbons. Before Tommy's eyes they killed a nameless small animalwith the trunchionlike weapon Evelyn carried. And Denham carted ittriumphantly off into the shelter of the tree-fern forest. But toTommy that shelter began to appear extremely dubious. 

That same afternoon some of the Ragged Men came suspiciously to theglobe and inspected it, and then vented a gibbering rage upon it withblows and curses. They seemed half-mad, these men. But then, all theRagged Men seemed a shade less than sane. Their hatred for the GoldenCity seemed the dominant emotion of their existence. 

And when they had gone, Tommy saw Denham peering cautiously frombehind a screening mass of fern. And Denham looked sick at heart. Hiseyes lifted suddenly to the heavens, and he stared off into thedistance again, and then he regarded the heavens again with anexpression that was at once of the utmost wistfulness and theuttermost of despair. 

 * * * * *

Tommy swung the dimensoscope about and searched the skies of thatother world. He saw the flying machine, and it was a swallow-wingeddevice that moved swiftly, and now soared and swooped in abrupt shortcircles almost overhead. Tommy could see its pilot, leaning out togaze downward. He was no more than a hundred feet up, almost at theheight of the tree-fern tops. And the pilot was moving too swiftly forTommy to be able to focus accurately upon his face, but he could seehim as a man, an indubitable man in no fashion distinguishable fromthe other men of this earth. He was scrutinizing the globe as well ashe could without alighting. 

He soared upward, suddenly, and his plane dwindled as it went towardthe Golden City. 

And then, inevitably, Tommy searched for the four Ragged Men who hadinspected the globe a little while since. He saw them, caperinghorribly behind a screening of verdure. They did not shake theirclenched fists at the flying machine. Instead, they seemed filled witha ghastly mirth. And suddenly they began to run frantically for thefar distance, as if bearing news of infinite importance. 

And when he looked back at Denham, it seemed to Tommy that he wrunghis hands before he disappeared. 

 * * * * *

But that was the second day of the work upon our own world, and justbefore sunset there was a droning in the earthly sky above thelaboratory, and Tommy ran out, and somebody shot at him from a patchof woodland a quarter of a mile away from the brick building. Isolatedas Denham's place was, the shot would go unnoticed. The bullet passedwithin a few feet of Tommy, but he paid no attention. It was one ofJacaro's watchers, no doubt, but Jacaro did not want Tommy killed. SoTommy waited until the plane swooped low--almost to the level of thelaboratory roof--and a thickly padded package thudded to the ground. He picked it up and darted back into the laboratory as other bulletscame from the patch of woodland. 

"Funny, " he said dryly to Smithers, inside the laboratory again; "theydon't dare kill me--yet--and Von Holtz doesn't dare leave or refuse todo what I tell him to do; and yet they expect to lick us. "

Smithers growled. Tommy was unpacking the wrapped package. A grim, blued-steel thing came out of much padding. Boxes tumbled after it. 

"Sub-machine gun, " said Tommy, "and ammunition. Jacaro and his littlepals will try to get in here when they think we've got the bigsolenoid ready for use. They'll try to get it before we can use it. This will attend to them. "

"An' get us in jail, " said Smithers calmly, "for forty-'leven years. "

"No, " said Tommy, and grinned. "We'll be in the fifth dimension. Ourjob is to fling through the catapult all the stuff we'll need to makeanother catapult to fling us back again. "

"It can't be done, " said Smithers flatly. 

"Maybe not, " agreed Tommy, "especially since we ruin all our springsand one gymbal ring every time we use the thing. But I've got an idea. I'll want five coils with hollow iron cores, and the whole worksshaped like this, with two holes bored so. .. . "

 * * * * *

He sketched. He had been working on the idea for several days, and thesketch was ready in his mind to be transferred to paper. 

"What you goin' to do?"

"Something crazy, " said Tommy. "A mirror isn't the only thing thatchanges angles to right ones. "

"You're the doctor, " said the imperturbable Smithers. 

He set to work. He puzzled Tommy sometimes, Smithers did. So far hehadn't asked how much his pay was going to be. He'd workedunintermittantly. He had displayed a colossal, a tremendous calmness. But no man could work as hard as Smithers did without some powerfuldriving-force. It was on the fourth day that Tommy learned what itwas. 

The five coils had been made, and Tommy was assembling them with anextraordinary painstaking care behind a screen, to hide what he wasdoing. He'd discovered a peep-hole bored through the brick wall fromthe lean-to where Von Holtz worked. He was no longer locked in there. Tommy abandoned the pretense of imprisonment after finding anautomatic pistol and a duplicate key to the lock in Von Holtz'spossession. He'd had neither when he was theoretically locked up, andTommy laughed. 

"It's a farce, Von Holtz, " he said dryly, "this pretending you'll runaway. You're here spying now, for Jacaro. Of course. And you don'tdare harm either of us until you find out from me what you can't workout for yourself, and know I have done. How much is Jacaro going topay you for the secret of the catapult, Von Holtz?"

Von Holtz snarled. Smithers moved toward him, his hands closing andunclosing. Von Holtz went gray with terror. 

"Talk!" said Smithers. 

"A--a million dollars, " said Von Holtz, cringing away from the brawnyred-headed man. 

"It would be interesting to know what use it would be to him, " saidTommy dryly. "But to earn that million you have to learn what we know. And to learn that, you have to help us do it again, on the scale wewant. You won't run away. So I shan't bother to lock you up hereafter. Jacaro's men come and talk to you at night, don't they?"

 * * * * *

Von Holtz cringed again. It was an admission. 

"I don't want to have to kill any of them, " said Tommy pleasantly, "and we'll all be classed as mad if this thing gets out. So you go andtalk to them in the lane when you want to, Von Holtz. But if any ofthem come near the laboratory, Smithers and I will kill them, and ifSmithers is hurt I'll kill you; and I don't imagine Jacaro wants that, because he expects you to build another catapult for him. But I warnyou, if I find another gun on you I'll thrash you. "

Von Holtz's pallor changed subtly from the pallor of fear to the awfullividness of rage. 

"You--Gott! You dare threaten--" He choked upon his own fury. 

"I do, " said Tommy. "And I'll carry out the threat. "

Smithers moved forward once more. 

"Mr. Von Holtz, " he said in a very terrible steadiness, "I aim to killyou some time. I ain't done it yet because Mr. Reames says he needsyou a while. But I know you got Miss Evelyn marooned off in themfern-woods on purpose! And--God knows she wouldn't ever look at me, but--I aim to kill you some time!"

His eyes were flames. His hands closed and unclosed horribly. VonHoltz gaped at him, shocked out of his fury into fear again. He wentunsteadily back to his lean-to. And Smithers went back to thedimensoscope. It was his turn to watch that other world for signs ofDenham and Evelyn, and for any sign of danger to them. 

 * * * * *

Tommy adjusted the screen before the bench on which he was working, soVon Holtz could not see his task, and went back to work. It was arather intricate task he had undertaken, and before the events of thepast few days he would have said it was insane. But now he was takingit quite casually. 

Presently he said:

"Smithers. "

Smithers did not look away from the brass tube. 

"Yeah?"

"You're thinking more about Miss Denham than her father. "

Smithers did not reply for a moment. Then he said:

"Well? What if I am?"

"I am, too, " said Tommy quietly. "I've never spoken to her, and Idaresay she's never even heard of me, and she certainly has never seenme, but--"

Smithers said with a vast calmness:

"She'll never look at me, Mr. Reames. I know it. She talks to me, an'laughs with me, but she's never sure-'nough looked at me. An' shenever will. But I got the right to love her. "

Tommy nodded very gravely. 

"Yes. You have. So have I. And so, when that globe comes, we both getinto it with what arms and ammunition we can pack in, and go where sheis, to help her. I intended to have you work the switch and send meoff. But you can come, too. "

Smithers was silent. But he took his eyes from the dimensoscopeeye-piece and regarded Tommy soberly. Then he nodded and turned back. And it was a compact between the two men that they should serveEvelyn, without any rivalry at all. 

 * * * * *

Tommy went on with his work. The essential defect in the catapultDenham had designed was the fact that it practically had to be rebuiltafter each use. And, moreover, the metallic ammonium was so fugitive asubstance that it was hard to keep. Once it had been strained byworking, it gradually adverted to a gaseous state and was lost. Andwhile he still tried to keep the little catapult in a condition foruse, he was at no time sure that he could send a pair of automaticsand ammunition through in a steel box at any moment that Denham cameclose enough to notice a burning smoke-fuse attached. 

But he was working on another form of catapult entirely, now. In thiscase he was using hollow magnets placed at known angles to each other. And they were so designed that each one tended to adjust its ownhollow bore at right angles to the preceding one, and each one wouldtake any moving, magnetic object and swing it through four successiveright angles into the fifth dimension. 

He fitted the first magnet on twin rods of malleable copper, whichalso would carry the current which energized the coil. He threaded thesecond upon the same twin supports. When the current was passedthrough the two of them, the magnetic field itself twisted themagnets, bending the copper supports and placing the magnets in theirproper relative positions. A third magnet on the same pair of rods, and a repetition of the experiment, proved the accuracy of the idea. And since this device, like the dimensoscope, required only aforty-five degree angle to our known dimensions, instead of a rightangle as the other catapult did, Tommy was able to work with ordinaryand durable materials. He fitted on the last two coils and turned onthe current for his final experiment. And as he watched, the twinthree-eighths-inch rods twisted and writhed in the grip of theintangible magnetic force. They bent, and quivered, and twisted. .. . And suddenly there seemed to be a sort of inaudible _snap_, and one ofthe magnets hurt the eyes that looked at it, and only the edge of thelast of the series was visible. 

 * * * * *

Tommy drew in his breath sharply. "Now we try it, " he said tensely. "Iwas trying to work this as the mirrors of the dimensoscope werefitted. Let's see. "

He took a long piece of soft-iron wire and fed it into the hollow ofthe first magnet. He saw it come out and bend stiffly to enter thehollow of the second. It required force to thrust it through. It wentstill more stiffly into the third magnet. It required nearly all hisstrength to thrust it on, and on. .. . The end of it vanished. He pushedtwo feet or more of it beyond the last place where it was visible. Itwent into the magnet that hurt one's eyes. After that it could not beseen. 

Tommy's voice was strained. 

"Swing the dimensoscope, Smithers, " he ordered. "See if you can seethe wire. The end of it should be in the other world. "

It seemed an age, an aeon, that Smithers searched. Then:

"Move it, " he said. 

Tommy obeyed. 

"It's there, " said Smithers evenly. "Two or three feet of it. "

 * * * * *

Tommy drew a deep, swift breath of relief. 

"All right!" he said crisply. "Now we can fling anything we needthrough there, when our globe arrives. We can built up a dump ofsupplies, all sent through just before we slide through in the globe. "

"Yeah, " said Smithers. "Uh--Mr. Reames. There's a bunch of Ragged Menin sight, hauling something heavy behind them. I don't know what it'sall about. "

Tommy went to the brass tube and stared through it. The tree-fernforest, drawing away in the distance. The vast and steaming morass. The glittering city, far, far in the distance. 

And then a mob of the Ragged Men, hauling at some heavy thing. Theywere a long way off. Some of them came capering on ahead, and Tommyswung the dimensoscope about to see Denham and Evelyn dart for coverand vanish amid the tree-ferns. Denham was as ragged as the RaggedMen, by now, and Evelyn's case was little better. 

Frightened for them, Tommy swung the instrument about again. But theyhad not been seen. The leaders who ran gleefully on ahead were merelyin haste. And they were followed more slowly by burly men and leanones, whole men and limping men, who hauled frantically on long ropesof hide, dragging some heavy thing behind them. Tommy saw it onlyindistinctly as the filthy, nearly naked bodies moved. But it was anintricate device of a golden-colored metal, and it rested upon thecrudest of possible carts. The wheels were sections of tree trunks, pierced for wooden axles. The cart itself was made of the mostroughly-hewed of timbers. And there were fifty or more of the RaggedMen who dragged it. 

The men in advance now attacked the underbrush at the edge of theforest. They worked with a maniacal energy, clearing away the longfern-fronds while they capered and danced and babbled excitedly. 

 * * * * *

Irrelevantly, Tommy thought of escaped galley slaves. Just suchhard-bitten, vice-ridden men as these, and filled with just such amad, gibbering hatred of the free men they had escaped from. Certainlythese men had been civilized once. As the golden-metal device camenearer, its intricacy was the more apparent. No savages could utilizea device like this one. And there was a queer deadliness in the verygrace of its outlines. It was a weapon of some sort, but whose natureTommy could not even guess. 

And then he caught the gleam of metal also in the fern-forest. On theground. In glimpses and in fragments of glimpses between the swarmingnaked bodies of the Ragged Men, he pieced together a wholly incredibleimpression. There was a roadway skirting the edge of the forest. Itwas not wide; not more than fifteen feet at most. But it was a solidroad-bed of metal! The dull silver-white of aluminum gleamed from theground. Two or more inches thick and fifteen feet wide, there was aseamless ribbon of aluminum that vanished behind the tree-ferns oneither side. 

The intricate device of golden metal was set up, now, and a shaggy, savage-seeming man mounted beside it grinning. He manipulated itslevers and wheels with an expert's assurance. And Tommy saw repairsupon it. Crude repairs, with crude materials, but expertly done. Doneby the Ragged Men, past doubt, and so demolishing any idea that theycame of a savage race. 

"Watch here, Smithers, " said Tommy grimly. 

 * * * * *

He sat to work upon the little catapult after Denham's design. His ownhad seemed to work, but the other was more sure. This would be anambush the Ragged Men were preparing, and of course they would bepreparing it for men of the Golden City. The plane had sightedDenham's steel globe. It had hovered overhead, and carried news ofwhat it had seen to the Golden City. And here was a roadway that musthave been made by the folk of the Golden City at some time or another. Its existence explained why Denham remained nearby. He had been hopingthat some vehicle would travel along its length, containing civilizedpeople to whom he could signal and ultimately explain his plight. And, being near the steel globe, his narrative would have its proofs athand. 

And now it was clear that the Ragged Men expected some ground-vehicle, too. They were preparing for it. They were setting a splendid ambush, with a highly-treasured weapon they ordinarily kept hidden. Theirtriumphant hatred could apply to nothing else than an expectation ofinflicting injury on men of the Golden City. 

So Tommy worked swiftly upon the catapult. A new little ring ofmetallic ammonium was ready, and so were the necessary springs. TheRagged Men would lay their ambush. The men of the Golden City mightenter it. They might. But the aviator who had spotted the globe wouldhave seen the shredded contents of the sphere about. He would haveknown the Ragged Men had found it. And the men who came in aground-vehicle from the Golden City should be expecting just such anambush as was being laid. 

There would be a fight, and Tommy, somehow, had no doubt that the menof the Golden City would win. And when they had cleared the field hewould fling a smoking missile through the catapult. The victors shouldsee it and should examine it. And though writing would serve littlepurpose, they should at least recognize it as written communication ina language other than their own. And mathematical diagrams wouldcertainly be lucid, and proof of a civilized man sending the missile, and photographs. .. . 

 * * * * *

The catapult was ready, and Tommy prepared his message-carryingprojectile. He found snapshots and included them. He tore out aphotograph of Evelyn and her father, which had been framed above awork bench in the laboratory. He labored, racking his brain for ameans of conveying the information that the globe was of any otherworld. .. . And suddenly he had an idea. A cord attached to his missilewould lead to nothingness from either world, yet one end would be inthat other world, and the other end in this. A wire would be better. Tugs upon it would convey the idea of living beings nearby butinvisible. The photograph would identify Denham and his daughter asassociated with the phenomenon and competent to explain it. .. . 

Tommy worked frantically to get the thing ready. He almost prayed thatthe men of the Golden City would be victors, would find his littlemissile when the fray was over, and would try to comprehend it. .. . 

All he could do was try. 

Then Smithers said, from the dimensoscope:

"They're all set, Mr. Reames. Y'better look. "

Tommy stared through the eye-piece. Strangely, the golden weapon hadvanished. All seemed to be exactly as before. The cleared-awayunderbrush was replaced. Nothing was in any way changed from thenormal in that space upon a mad world. But there was a tiny movementand Tommy saw a Ragged Man. He was lying prone upon the earth. Heseemed either to hear or see something, because his lips moved as hespoke to another invisible man beside him, and his expression ofmalevolent joy was horrible. 

Tommy swung the tube about. Nothing. .. . But suddenly he sawswiftly-moving winkings of sunlight from the edge of the tree-fernforest. Something was moving in there, moving with lightning swiftnessalong the fifteen-foot roadway of solid aluminum. It drew nearer, andmore near. .. . 

 * * * * *

The carefully camouflaged ambuscade was fully focussed and Tommy waswatching tensely when the thing happened. 

He saw glitterings through the tree-fronds come to a smoothlydecelerated stop. There was a pause; and suddenly the underbrush fellflat. As if a single hand had smitten it, it wavered, drooped, and layprone. The golden weapon was exposed, with its brawny and horriblygrinning attendant. For one-half a split second Tommy saw the wheeledthing in which half a dozen men of the Golden City were riding. It wasgraceful and stream-lined and glittering. There was a platform onwhich the steel sphere would have been mounted for carrying away. 

But then there was a sudden intolerable light as the men of the GoldenCity reached swiftly for peculiar weapons beside them. The light camefrom the crudely mounted weapon of the Ragged Men, and it was anunbearable actinic glare. For half a second, perhaps, it persisted, and died away to a red flame which leaped upward and was not. 

Then the vehicle from the Golden City was a smoking, twisted ruin. Four of the six men in it were blasted, blackened crisps. Anotherstaggered to his feet, struggled to reach a weapon and could not liftit, and twitched a dagger from his belt and fell forward; and Tommycould see that his suicide was deliberate. 

The last man, alone, was comparatively unharmed by the blast of light. He swept a pistol-like contrivance into sight. It bore swiftly uponthe now surging, yelling horde of Ragged Men. And one--two--three ofthem seemed to scream convulsively before they were trampled under bythe rest. 

But suddenly there were a myriad little specks of red all over thebody of the man at bay. The pistol-like thing dropped from his graspas his whole hand became encrimsoned. And then he was buried beneaththe hating, blood-lusting mob of the forest men. 

CHAPTER V

An hour later, Tommy took his eyes away from the dimensoscopeeye-piece. He could not bear to look any longer. 

"Why don't they kill him?" he demanded sickly, filled with a horrible, a monstrous rage. "Oh, why don't they kill him?"

He felt maddeningly impotent. In another world entirely, a mob ofhalf-naked renegades had made a prisoner. He was not dead, that solelysurviving man from the Golden City. He was bound, and the Ragged Menguarded him closely, and his guards were diverting themselvesunspeakably by small tortures, minor tortures, horribly painful butnot weakening. And they capered and howled with glee when the boundman writhed. 

The prisoner was a brave man, though. Helpless as he was, he presentlyflung back his head and set his teeth. Sweat stood out in greatdroplets upon his body and upon his forehead. And he stilled hiswrithings, and looked at his captors with a grim and desperatedefiance. 

The guards made gestures which were all too clear, all too luridlydescriptive of the manner of death which awaited him. And the man ofthe Golden City was ashen and hopeless and utterly despairing--and yetdefiant. 

Smithers took Tommy's place at the eye-piece of the instrument. Hisnostrils quivered at what he saw. The vehicle from the Golden City wasbeing plundered, of course. Weapons from the dead men were beingsquabbled over, even fought over. And the Ragged Men fought as madlyamong themselves as if in combat with their enemies. The big goldenweapon on its cart was already being dragged away to its formerhiding-place. And somehow, it was clear that those who dragged it awayexpected and demanded that the solitary prisoner not be killed untiltheir return. 

It was that prisoner, in the agony which was only the beginning of hisdeath, who made Smithers' teeth set tightly. 

 * * * * *

"I don't see the Professor or Miss Evelyn, " said Smithers in a vastcalmness. "I hope to Gawd they--don't see this. "

Tommy swung on his heel, staring and ashen. 

"They were near, " he said stridently. "I saw them! They saw whathappened in the ambush! They'll--they'll see that man tortured!"

Smithers' hand closed and unclosed. 

"Maybe the Professor'll have sense enough to take MissEvelyn--uh--where she--can't hear, " he said slowly, his voice level. "I hope so. "

Tommy flung out his hands desperately. 

"I want to help that man!" he cried savagely. "I want to do something!I saw what they promised to do to him. I want to--to kill him, even!It would be mercy!"

Smithers said, with a queer, stilly shock in his voice:

"I see the Professor now. He's got that gun-thing in his hand. .. . MissEvelyn's urging him to try to do something. .. . He's looking at thesky. .. . It'll be a long time before it's dark. .. . He's gone back outof sight. .. . "

"If we had some dynamite!" said Tommy desperately, "we could take achance on blowing ourselves to bits and try to fling it through andinto the middle of those devils. .. . "

 * * * * *

He was pacing up and down the laboratory, harrowed by the fate of thatgray-faced man who awaited death by torture; filled with a wild terrorthat Evelyn and her father would try to rescue him and be caught toshare his fate; racked by his utter impotence to do more thanwatch. .. . 

Then Smithers said thickly:

"God!"

He stumbled away from the eye-piece. Tommy took his place, dry-throated with terror. He saw the Ragged Men laughing uproariously. The bearded man who was their leader was breaking the arms and legs ofthe prisoner so that he would be helpless when released from the staketo which he was bound. And if ever human beings looked like devils outof hell, it was at that moment. The method of breaking the bones wasexcruciating. The prisoner screamed. The Ragged Men rolled upon theground in their maniacal mirth. 

And then a man dropped, heaving convulsively, and then another, andstill another. .. . The grim, gaunt figure of Denham came out of thetree-fern forest, the queer small golden-metal trunchion in his hand. A fourth man dropped before the Ragged Men quite realized what hadhappened. The fourth man himself was armed--and a flashing slenderbody came plunging from the forest and Evelyn flung herself upon thestill-heaving body and plucked away that weapon. 

 * * * * *

Tommy groaned, in the laboratory in another world. He could not lookaway, and yet it seemed that the heart would be torn from his body bythat sight. Because the Ragged Men had turned upon Denham with aconcentrated ferocity, somehow knowing instantly that he was morenearly akin to the men of the Golden City than to them. But at sightof Evelyn, her garments rent by the thorns of the forest, her whitebody gleaming through the largest tears, they seemed to go mad. AndTommy's eyes, glazing, saw the look on Denham's face as he realizedthat Evelyn had not fled, but had followed him in his desperate andwholly hopeless effort. 

Then the swarming mass of Ragged Men surged over the two of them. Buried them under reaching, hating, lusting fiends who fought evenamong themselves to be first to seize them. 

Then there was only madness, and Denham was bound beside the man ofthe Golden City, and Evelyn was the center of a fighting group whichwas suddenly flung aside by the bearded giant, and the encampment ofthe Ragged Men was bedlam. And somehow Tommy knew with a terribleclarity that a man of the Golden City to torture was blissunimaginable to these half-mad enemies of that city. But a woman--

He turned from the instrument, three-quarters out of his head. Heliterally did not see Von Holtz gazing furtively in the doorway. Hiseyes were fixed and staring. It seemed that his brain would burst. 

Then he heard his own voice saying with an altogether unbelievablesteadiness:

"Smithers! They've got Evelyn. Get the sub-machine gun. "

 * * * * *

Smithers cried out hoarsely. His face was not quite human, for aninstant. But Tommy was bringing the work bench on which he hadinstalled his magnetic catapult, close over by the dimensoscope. 

"This cannot work, " he said in the same incredible calmness. "Notpossibly. It should not work. It will not work. But it has to work!"

He was clamping the catapult to a piece of heavy timber. 

"Put the gun so it shoots into the first magnet, " he said steadily. "The magnet-windings shouldn't stand the current we've got to put intothem. They've got to. "

Smithers' fingers were trembling and unsteady. Tommy helped him, notlooking through the dimensoscope at all. 

"Start the dynamo, " he said evenly--and marveled foolishly at thevoice that did not seem to belong to him at all, talking so steadilyand so quietly. "Give me all the juice you've got. We'll cut out thisrheostat. "

He was tightening a vise which would hold the deadly little weapon inplace while Smithers got the crude-oil engine going and accelerated itrecklessly to its highest speed. Tommy flung the switch. Rubberinsulation steamed and stank. He pulled the trigger of the little gunfor a single shot. The bullet flew into the first hollow magnet, justas he had beforehand thrust an iron wire. It vanished. The series ofmagnets seemed unharmed. 

 * * * * *

With a peculiar, dreamlike steadiness, Tommy put his hand where anundeflected bullet would go through it. He pressed the trigger again. He felt a tiny breeze upon his hand. But the bullet had been unable toelude the compound-wound magnets, each of which now had quite fourtimes the designed voltage impressed upon its coils. 

Tommy flung off the switch. 

"Work the gun, " he ordered harshly. "When I say fire, send a burst ofshots through it. Keep the switch off except when you're actuallyfiring, so--God willing--the coils don't burn out. Fire!"

He was gazing through the dimensoscope. Evelyn was strugglinghelplessly while two Ragged Men held her arms, grinning as only devilscould have grinned, and others squabbled and watched with a fascinatedattention some cryptic process which could only be the drawing oflots. .. . 

Tommy saw, and paid no attention. The machine-gun beside him raspedsuddenly. He saw a tree-fern frond shudder. He saw a gaping, irregularhole where a fresh frond was uncurling. Tommy put out his hand to thegun. 

"Let me move it, bench and all, " he said steadily. "Now try it again. Just a burst. "

 * * * * *

Again the gun rasped. And the earth was kicked up suddenly where thebullets struck in that other world. The little steel-jacketed missileswere deflected by the terribly overstrained magnets of the catapult, but their energy was not destroyed. It was merely altered indirection. Fired within the laboratory upon our own and normal world, the bullets came out into the world of tree-ferns and monstrousthings. They came out, as it happened, sideways instead of pointfirst, which was due to some queer effect of dimension change upon anobject moving at high velocity. Because of that, they ricocheted muchmore readily, and where they struck they made a much more ghastlywound. But the first two bursts caused no effect at all. They were noteven noticed by the Ragged Men. The noise of the little gun wasthunderous and snarling in the laboratory, but in the world of thefifth dimension there was no sound at all. 

"Like this, " said Tommy steadily. "Just like this. .. . Now fire!"

He had tilted the muzzle upward. And then with a horrible grimintensity he traversed the gun as it roared. 

And it was butchery. Three Ragged Men were cut literally to bitsbefore the storm of bullets began to do real damage. The squabblinggroup, casting lots for Evelyn, had a swathe of dead men in its midstbefore snarls begun had been completed. 

"Again, " said Tommy coldly. "Again, Smithers, again!"

 * * * * *

And again the little gun roared. The burly bearded man clutched at histhroat--and it was a gory horror. A Thing began to run insanely. Itdid not even look human any longer. It stumbled over the leader of theRagged Men and died as he had done. The bullets came tumbling overthemselves erratically. They swooped and curved and dispersedthemselves crazily. Spinning as they were, at right angles to theirline of flight, their trajectories were incalculable and their impactswere grisly. 

The little gun fired ten several bursts, aimed in a desperatecold-bloodedness, before the smell of burnt rubber became suddenlyoverpowering and the rasping sound of an electric arc broke throughthe rumbling of the crude-oil engine in the back. 

Smithers sobbed. 

"Burnt out!"

But Tommy waved his hand. 

"I think, " he said savagely, "that maybe a dozen of them got away. Evelyn's staggering toward her father. She'll turn him loose. Thatprisoner's dead, though. Didn't mean to shoot him, but those bulletsflew wild. "

He gave Smithers the eye-piece. Sweat was rolling down his forehead ingreat drops. His hands were trembling uncontrollably. 

He paced shakenly up and down the laboratory, trying to shut out ofhis own sight the things he had seen when the bullets of his ownaiming literally splashed into the living flesh of men. He had seenRagged Men disemboweled by those spinning, knifelike projectiles. Hehad turned a part of the mad world of that other dimension into ashambles, and he did not regret it because he had saved Evelyn, but hewanted to shut out the horror of seeing what he had done. 

"But now, " he said uncertainly to himself, "they're no better off, except they've got weapons. .. . If that man from the Golden City hadn'tbeen killed. .. . "

 * * * * *

He was looking at the magnetic catapult, burned out and useless. Hiseyes swung suddenly to the other one. Just a little while since he hadmade ready a missile to be thrown through into the other world bythat. It contained snapshots, and diagrams, and it was an attempt tocommunicate with the men of the Golden City without any knowledge oftheir language. 

"But--I can communicate with Denham!"

He began to write feverishly. If he had looked out of the laboratorywindow, he would have seen Von Holtz running like a deer, waving hisarms jerkily, and--when out of earshot of the laboratory--shoutingloudly. And Von Holtz was carrying a small black box which Tommy wouldhave identified instantly as a motion picture camera, built foramateurs but capable of taking pictures indoors and with asurprisingly small amount of light. And if Tommy had listened, hemight possibly have heard the beginnings of those shoutings to menhidden in a patch of woodland about a quarter of a mile away. The men, of course, were Jacaro's, waiting until either Von Holtz had securedthe information that was wanted, or until an assault in force upon thelaboratory would net them a catapult ready for use--to be examined, photographed, and duplicated at leisure. 

But Tommy neither looked nor listened. He wrote feverishly, saying toSmithers at the dimensoscope:

"Denham'll be looking around to see what killed those men. When hedoes, we want to be ready to shoot a smoke-bomb through to him, with amessage attached. "

Smithers made a gesture of no especial meaning save that he had heard. And Tommy went on writing swiftly, saying who he was and what he haddone, and that another globe was being built so that he and Smitherscould come with supplies and arms to help. .. . 

"He's lookin'' around now, Mr. Reames, " said Smithers quietly. "He'spicked up a ricocheted bullet an' is staring at it. "

 * * * * *

The crude-oil engine was running at a thunderous rate. Tommy fastenedhis note in the little missile he had made ready. He placed it underthe solenoid of the catapult after Denham's design, with the springsand rings of metallic ammonium. He turned to Smithers. 

"I'll watch for him, " said Tommy unsteadily. "You know, watch for theright moment to fling it through. Slow up the generator a little. It'll rack itself to pieces. "

He put his eye to the eye-piece. He winced as he saw again what thebullets of his aiming had done. But he saw Denham almost at once. AndDenham was scratched and bruised and looked very far indeed from theideal of a professor of theoretic physics, with hardly more than a fewshreds of clothing left upon him, and a ten-day's beard upon his face. He limped as he walked. But he had stopped in the task of gathering upweapons to show Evelyn excitedly what it was that he had found. Aspent and battered bullet, but indubitably a bullet from the world ofhis own ken. He began to stare about him, hopeful yet incredulous. 

Tommy took his eye from the dimensoscope just long enough to light thefuse of the smoke-bomb. 

"Here it goes, Smithers!"

He flung the switch. The missile with its thickly smoking fuse leapedupward as the concentric rings flickered and whirled bewilderingly. The missile hurt the eyes that watched it. It vanished. The solenoiddropped to the floor from the broken small contrivance. 

Then Tommy's heart stood still as he gazed through the eye-pieceagain. He could see nothing but an opaque milkiness. But it driftedaway, and he realised that it was smoke. More, Denham was staring atit. More yet, he was moving cautiously towards its source, one of thestrange golden weapons held ready. .. . 

Denham was investigating. 

 * * * * *

The generator at the back of the laboratory slowed down. Smithers wasobeying orders. Tommy hung close by the vision instrument, his handsmoving vaguely and helplessly, as one makes gestures without volitionwhen anxious for someone else to duplicate the movements for which hesets the example. 

He saw Denham, very near, inspecting the smoking thing on the groundsuspiciously. The smoke-fuse ceased to burn. Denham stared. After anage-long delay, he picked up the missile Tommy had prepared. And Tommysaw that there was a cord attached to it. He had fastened that cordwhen planning to try to communicate with the men of the Golden City, when he had expected them to be victorious. 

But he saw Denham's face light up with pathetic hope. He called toEvelyn. He hobbled excitedly to her, babbling. .. . 

Tommy watched, and his heart pounded suddenly as Evelyn turned andsmiled in the direction in which she knew the dimensoscope must be. Ahuge butterfly, its wings a full yard across, fluttered past her head. Denham talked excitedly to her. A clumsy batlike thing swooped byoverhead. Its shadow blanketed her face for an instant. A runninganimal, small and long, ran swiftly in full view from one side of thedimensoscope's field of vision to the other. Then a snake, curiouslyhorned, went writhing past. .. . 

Denham talked excitedly. He turned and made gestures as of writing, toward the spot where he had picked up Tommy's message. He began tosearch for a charred stick where the Ragged Men had built a fire somedays now past. A fleeing furry thing sped across his feet, running. .. . 

 * * * * *

Denham looked up. And Evelyn was staring now. She was staring in thedirection of the Golden City. And now what was almost a wave ofanimals, all wild and all fleeing, swept across the field of vision ofthe dimensoscope. There were gazelles, it seemed--slender-limbed, graceful animals, at any rate--and there were tiny hoofed things whichmight have been eohippi, and then a monstrous armadillo clanked andrattled past. .. . 

Tommy swung the dimensoscope. He gasped. All the animal world was inflight. The insects had taken to wing. Flying creatures were soaringupward and streaking through the clear blue sky, and all in the onedirection. And then out of the morass came monstrous shapes;misshapen, unbelievable reptilian shapes, which fled bellowingthunderously for the tree-fern forest. They were gigantic, thosethings from the morass. They were hideous. They were things out ofnightmares, made into flabby flesh. There were lizards and what mighthave been gigantic frogs, save that frogs possess no tails. And therewere long and snaky necks terminating in infinitesimal heads, and vastpalpitating bodies following those impossible small brain-cases, andlong tapering tails that thrashed mightily as the ghastly things fledbellowing. .. . 

And the cause of the mad panic was a slowly moving white curtain ofmist. It was flowing over the marsh, moving with apparentdeliberation, but, as Tommy saw, actually very swiftly. It shimmeredand quivered and moved onward steadily. Its upper surface gleamed withelusive prismatic colors. It had blotted out the horizon and theGolden City, and it came onward. .. . 

 * * * * *

Denham made frantic, despairing gestures toward the dimensoscope. Thething was coming too fast. There was no time to write. Denham heldhigh the cord that trailed from the message-bearing missile. Hegesticulated frantically, and raced to the gutted steel globe andheaved mightily upon it and swung it about so that Tommy saw a greatsteel ring set in its side, which had been hidden before. He made moregestures, urgently, and motioned Evelyn inside. 

Tommy struck at his forehead. 

"It's poison gas, " he muttered. "Revenge for the smashed-upvehicle. .. . They knew it by an automatic radio signal, maybe. This istheir way of wiping out the Ragged Men. .. . Poison gas. .. . It'll killDenham and Evelyn. .. . He wants me to do something. .. . "

He drew back, staring, straining every nerve to think. .. . And somehowhis eyes were drawn to the back of the laboratory and he saw Smithersteetering on his feet, with his hands clasped queerly to his body, anda strange man standing in the door of the laboratory with an automaticpistol in his hand. The automatic had a silencer on it, and itsclicking had been drowned out, anyhow, by the roaring of the crude-oilengine. 

The man was small and dark and natty. His lips were drawn back in apeculiar mirthless grin as Smithers teetered stupidly back and forthand then fell. .. . 

The explosion of Tommy's own revolver astounded him as much as it didJacaro's gunman. He did not ever remember drawing it or aiming. Thenatty little gunman was blotted out by a spouting mass of whitesmoke--and suddenly Tommy knew what it was that Denham wanted him todo. 

 * * * * *

There was rope in a loose and untidy coil beneath a work bench. Tommysprang to it in a queer, nightmarish activity. He knew what washappening, of course. Von Holtz had seen the magnetic catapult atwork. That couldn't be destroyed or its workings hidden like the ringcatapult of Denham's design. He'd gone out to call in Jacaro's men. And they'd shot down Smithers as a cold-blooded preliminary to theseizure of the instrument Jacaro wanted. 

It was necessary to defend the laboratory. But Tommy could not sparethe time. That white mist was moving upon Evelyn and her father, inthat other world. It was death, as the terror of the wild thingsdemonstrated. They had to be helped. .. . 

He knotted the rope to the end of the cord that vanished curiouslysomewhere among the useless mass of rings. He tugged at the cord--andit was tugged in return. Denham, in another world, had felt his signaland had replied to it. .. . 

A window smashed suddenly and a bullet missed Tommy's neck by inches. He fired at that window, and absorbedly guided the knot of the ropepast its vanishing point. The knot ceased to exist and the rope creptonward--and suddenly moved more and more swiftly to a place whereabruptly it was not. For the length of half an inch, the rope hurt theeyes that looked at it. Beyond that it was not possible to see it atall. 

Tommy leaped up. He plunged ahead of two separate spurts of shots fromtwo separate windows. The shots pierced the place where he had been. He was racing for the crude-oil engine. There was a chain wound upon adrum, there, and a clutch attached the drum to the engine. 

He stopped and seized the repeating shotgun Smithers had brought ashis own weapon against Jacaro's gangsters. He sent four loads ofbuckshot at the windows of the laboratory. A man yelled. 

And Tommy had dropped the gun to knot the rope to the chain, desperately, fiercely, in a terrible haste. 

 * * * * *

The chain began to pay out to that peculiar vanishing point which washere an entry-way to another world--perhaps another universe. 

A bullet nicked his ribs. He picked up the gun and fired it nearly atrandom. He saw Smithers moving feebly, and Tommy had a vast compassionfor Smithers, but-- He shuddered suddenly. Something had struck him aheavy blow in the shoulder. And something else battered at his leg. There was no sound that could be heard above the thunder of thecrude-oil motor, but Tommy, was queerly aware of buzzing things flyingabout him, and of something very warm flowing down his body and downhis leg. And he felt very dizzy and weak and extremely tired. .. . Hecould not see clearly, either. 

But he had to wait until Denham had the chain fast to the globe. Thatwas the way he had intended to come back, of course. The ring was inthe globe, and this chain was in the laboratory to haul the globe backfrom wherever it had been sent. And Von Holtz had disconnected itbefore sending away the globe with Denham in it. If the chain remainedunbroken, of course it could be hauled in, as it would turn allnecessary angles and force the globe to follow those angles, whateverthey might be. .. . 

Tommy was on his hands and knees, and men were saying savagely:

"Where's that thing, hey? Where's th' thing Jacaro wants?"

He wanted to tell them that they should say if the chain had stoppedmoving to a place where it ceased to exist, so that he could throw aclutch and bring Denham and his daughter back from the place where VonHoltz had marooned them when he wanted to steal Denham's secret. Tommywanted to explain that. But the floor struck him in the face, andsomething said to him:

"They've shot you. "

 * * * * *

But it did not seem to matter, somehow, and he lay very still until hefelt himself strangling, and he was breathing in strong ammonia whichmade his eyes smart and his tired lungs gasp. 

Then he saw flames, and heard a motor car roaring away from close bythe laboratory. 

"They've stolen the catapult and set fire to the place, " he remembereddizzily, "and now they're skipping out. .. . "

Even that did not seem to matter. But then he heard the chain clank, next to him on the floor. The white mist! Denham and Evelyn waitingfor the white mist to reach them, and Denham jerking desperately onthe chain to signal that he was ready. .. . 

The flames had released ammonia from the metal Von Holtz had made. That had roused Tommy. But it did not give him strength. It isimpossible to say where Tommy's strength came from, when somehow hecrawled to the clutch lever, with the engine roaring steadily abovehim, and got one hand on the lever, and edged himself up, and up, andup, until he could swing his whole weight on that lever. That instantof dangling hurt excruciatingly, too, and Tommy saw only that the drumbegan to revolve swiftly, winding the chain upon it, before his gripgave way. 

And the chain came winding in and in from nowhere, and the talllaboratory filled more and more thickly with smoke, and lurid flamesappeared somewhere, and a rushing sound began to be audible as thefire roared upward to the inflammable roof, and the engine ranthunderously. .. . 

 * * * * *

Then, suddenly, there was a shape in the middle of the laboratoryfloor. A huge globular shape which it hurt the eyes to look upon. Itbecame visible out of nowhere as if evoked by magic amid the flames ofhell. But it came, and was solid and substantial, and it slid alongthe floor upon small wheels until it wound up with a crash against thewinding drum, and the chain shrieked as it tightened unbearably--andthe engine choked and died. 

Then a door opened in the monstrous globe. Two figures leaped out, aghast. Two ragged, tattered, strangely-armed figures, who cried outto each other and started for the door. But the girl stumbled overTommy and called, choking, to her father. Groping toward her, he foundSmithers. And then Tommy smiled drowsily to himself as soft armstugged bravely at him, and a slender, glorious figure staggered withhim to fresh air. 

"It's Von Holtz, " snapped Denham, and coughed as he fought his way tothe open. "I'll blast him to hell with these things we broughtback. .. . "

 * * * * *

That was the last thing Tommy knew until he woke up in bed with afeeling of many bandages and an impression that his lungs hurt. 

Denham seemed to have heard him move. He looked in the door. 

"Hullo, Reames. You're all right now. "

Tommy regarded him curiously until he realized. Denham was shaved andfully clothed. That was the strangeness about him. Tommy had beenwatching him for many days as his clothing swiftly deteriorated andhis beard grew. 

"You are, too, I see, " he said weakly. "I'm damned glad. " Then he feltfoolish, and querulous, and as if he should make some apology, andinstead said, "But five dimensions does seem extreme. Three is enoughfor ordinary use, and four is luxurious. Five seems to be going a bittoo far. "

Denham blinked, and then grinned suddenly. Tommy had admired the manwho could face so extraordinary a situation with such dogged courage, and now he found, suddenly, that he liked Denham. 

"Not too far, " said Denham grimly. "Look!" He held up one of theweapons Tommy had seen in that other world, one of the golden-coloredtruncheons. "I brought this back. The same metal they built that wagonof theirs with. All their weapons. Most of their tools--as I know. It's gold, man! They use gold in that world as we use steel here. That's why Jacaro was ready to kill to get the secret of gettingthere. Von Holtz enlisted him. "

"How did you know--" began Tommy weakly. 

"Smithers, " said Denham. "We dragged both of you out before the labwent-up in smoke. He's going to be all right, too. Evelyn's nursingboth of you. She wants to talk to you, but I want to say this first:You did a damned fine thing, Reames! The only man who could have savedus, and you just about killed yourself doing it. Smithers saw youswing that clutch lever with three bullets in your body. And you're ascientist, too. You're my partner, Reames, in what we do in the fifthdimension. "

 * * * * *

Tommy blinked. "But five dimensions does seem extreme. .. . "

"We are the Interdimensional Trading Company, " said Denham, smiling. "Somehow, I think we'll find something in this world we can trade forthe gold in that. And we've got to get there, Reames, because Jacarowill surely try to make use of that catapult principle you worked out. He'll raise the devil; and I think the people of that Golden Citywould be worth knowing. No, we're partners. Sooner or later, you'llknow how I feel about what you've done. I'm going to bring Evelyn inhere now. "

He vanished. An instant later Tommy heard a voice--a girl's voice. Hisheart began to pound. Denham came back into the room and with him wasEvelyn. She smiled warmly upon Tommy, though as his eyes fell blanklyupon the smart sport clothes she was again wearing, she flushed. 

"My daughter Evelyn, " said Denham. "She wants to thank you. "

And Tommy felt a warm soft hand pressing his, and he looked deep intothe eyes of the girl he had never before spoken to, but for whom hehad risked his life, and whom he knew he would love forever. Therewere a thousand things crowding to his lips for utterance. He hadwatched Evelyn, and he loved her--

"H-how do you do?" said Tommy, lamely. "I'm--awfully glad to meetyou. "

But before he was well he learned to talk more sensibly. 

[Illustration: _--And the ships, at that touch, fell helplessly downfrom the heights. _]

The Pirate Planet

PART THREE OF A FOUR-PART NOVEL

_By Charles W. Diffin_

 Two fighting Yankees--war-torn Earth's sole representatives on Venus--set out to spike the greatest gun of all time. 

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE

The attack comes without warning; its reason is unknown. But Venus isapproaching the earth, and flashes from the planet are followed byterrific explosions that wreak havoc throughout the world. LieutenantMcGuire and Captain Blake of the U. S. Army Air Service see a greatship fly in from space. Blake attacks it with the 91st Squadron insupport, and Blake alone survives. McGuire and Professor Sykes, anastronomer of Mount Lawson, are captured. 

The bombardment ceases as Venus passes on, and the people of Earthsink into hopeless despondency. Less than a year and a half and theplanet will return, and then--the end! The armament of Earth is futileagainst an enemy who has conquered space. Blake hopes that sciencemight provide a means; might show our fighters how to go out intospace and throttle the attack at its source. But the hope is blasted, until a radio from McGuire supplies a lead. 

McGuire is on Venus. He and Sykes land on that distant planet, captives of a barbarous people. They are taken before Torg, theemperor, and his council, and they learn that these red, man-shapedbeasts intend to conquer the earth. Spawning in millions, they arecrowded, and Earth is to be their colony. 

Imprisoned on a distant island, the two captives are drugged andhypnotized before a machine which throws their thoughts upon a screen. Involuntary traitors, they disclose the secrets of Earth and itshelplessness; then attempt to escape and end their lives rather thanbe forced to further betrayal of their own people. 

McGuire finds a radio station and sends a message back to Earth. Heimplores Blake to find a man named Winslow, for Winslow has invented aspace ship and claims to have reached the moon. 

No time for further sending--McGuire does not even know if his messagehas been received--but they reach the ocean where death offers themrelease. A force of their captors attacking on land, they throwthemselves from a cliff, then swim out to drown beyond reach in theocean. An enemy ship sweeps above them: its gas cloud threatens notthe death they desire but unconsciousness and capture. "God help us, "says Sykes; "we can't even die!"

They sink, only to be buoyed up by a huge metal shape. A metalprojector raises from the ocean, bears upon the enemy ship and sendsit, a mass of flame and molten metal, into the sea. And friendlyvoices are in McGuire's ears as careful hands lift the two men andcarry them within the craft that has saved them. 

CHAPTER XIII

Lieutenant McGuire had tried to die. He and Professor Sykes hadwelcomed death with open arms, and death had been thwarted by theirenemies who wanted them alive--wanted to draw their knowledge fromthem as a vampire bat might seek to feast. And, when even death wasdenied them, help had come. 

The enemy ship had gone crashing to destruction where its meltingmetal made hissing clouds of steam as it buried itself in the ocean. And this craft that had saved them--Lieutenant McGuire had never beenon a submarine, but he knew it could be only that that held him nowand carried him somewhere at tremendous speed. 

This was miracle enough! But to see, with eyes which could not bedeceiving him, a vision of men, human, white of face--men likehimself--bending and working over Sykes' unconscious body--that couldnot be immediately grasped. 

Their faces, unlike the bleached-blood horrors he had seen, were aglowwith the flush of health. They were tall, slenderly built, graceful intheir quick motions as they worked to revive the unconscious man. Onestopped, as he passed, to lay a cool hand on McGuire's forehead, andthe eyes that looked down seemed filled with the blessed quality ofkindness. 

They were human--his own kind!--and McGuire was unable to take in atfirst the full wonder of it. 

Did the tall man speak? His lips did not move, yet McGuire heard thewords as in some inner ear. 

"We were awaiting you, friend Mack Guire. " The voice was musical, thrilling, and yet the listening man could not have sworn that heheard a voice at all. It was as if a thought were placed within hismind by the one beside him. 

The one who had paused hurried on to aid the others, and McGuire lethis gaze wander. 

 * * * * *

The porthole beside him showed dimly a pale green light; they weresubmerged, and the hissing rush of water told him that they weretravelling fast. There was a door in the farther wall; beyond was aroom of gleaming lights that reflected from myriads of shining leversand dials. A control room. A figure moved as McGuire watched, to presson a lever where a red light was steadily increasing in brightness. Heconsulted strange instruments before him, touched a metal button hereand there, then opened a switch, and the rippling hiss of watersoutside their craft softened to a gentler note. 

The tall one was beside him again. 

"Your friend will live, " he told him in that wordless tongue, "and weare almost arrived. The invisible arms of our anchorage have us nowand will draw us safely to rest. "

The kindly tone was music in McGuire's ears, and he smiled in reply. "Friends!" he thought. "We are among friends. "

"You are most welcome, " the other assured him, "and, yes, you aretruly among friends. " But the lieutenant glanced upward in wonder, forhe knew that he had uttered no spoken word. 

Their ship turned and changed its course beneath them, then camefinally to rest with a slight rocking motion as if cushioned onpowerful springs. Sykes was being assisted to his feet as the tall manreached for McGuire's hand and helped him to rise. 

The two men of Earth stood for a long minute while they staredunbelievingly into each other's eyes. Their wonder and amazement foundno words for expression but must have been apparent to the one besidethem. 

"You will understand, " he told them. "Do not question this realityeven to yourselves. You are safe!. .. Come. " And he led the way throughan opening doorway to a wet deck outside. Beyond this was a wharf ofcarved stone, and the men followed where steps were inset to allowthem to ascend. 

Again McGuire could not know if he heard a tumult of sound or sensedit in some deeper way. The air about them was aglow with soft light, and it echoed in his ears with music unmistakably real--beautifulmusic!--exhilarating! But the clamor of welcoming voices, like thewords from their tall companion, came soundlessly to him. 

 * * * * *

There were people, throngs of them, waiting. Tall like the others, garbed, like those horrible beings of a past that seemed distant andremote, in loose garments of radiant colors. And everywhere werewelcoming smiles and warm and friendly glances. 

McGuire let his dazed eyes roam around to find the sculptured walls ofa huge room like a tremendous cave. The soft glow of light waseverywhere, and it brought out the beauty of flowing lines anddelicate colors in statuary and bas-relief that adorned the walls. Behind him the water made a dark pool, and from it projected the upperworks of their strange craft. 

His eyes were hungry for these new sights, but he turned with Sykes tofollow their guide through the colorful crowd that parted to let themthrough. They passed under a carved archway and found themselves inanother and greater room. 

But was it a room? McGuire marveled at its tremendous size. His eyestook in the smooth green of a grassy lawn, the flowers and plants, andthen they followed where the hand of Sykes was pointing. Theastronomer gripped McGuire's arm in a numbing clutch; his other handwas raised above. 

"The stars, " he said. "The clouds are gone; it is night!"

And where he pointed was a vault of black velvet. Deep hues of blueseemed blended with it, and far in its depths were the old familiarstar-groups of the skies. "Ah!" the scientist breathed, "thebeautiful, friendly stars!"

Their guide waited; then, "Come, " he urged gently, and led them towarda lake whose unruffled glassy surface mirrored the stars above. Besideit a man was waiting to receive them. 

McGuire had to force his eyes away from the unreal beauty of opalwalls like the fairy structures they had seen. There was coloreverywhere that blended and fused to make glorious harmony that waspure joy to the eyes. 

 * * * * *

The man who waited was young. He stood erect, his face like that of aGrecian statue, and his robe was blazing with the flash of jewels. Beside him was a girl, tall and slender, and sweetly serious of face. Like the man, her garments were lovely with jeweled iridescence, andnow McGuire saw that the throng within the vast space was similarlyapparelled. 

The tall man raised his hand. 

"Welcome!" he said, and McGuire realized with a start that the wordswere spoken aloud. "You are most welcome, my friends, among the peopleof that world you call Venus. "

Professor Sykes was still weak from his ordeal; he wavered perceptiblywhere he stood, and the man before them them turned to give an order. There were chairs that came like magic; bright robes covered them; andthe men were seated while the man and girl also took seats beside themas those who prepare for an intimate talk with friends. 

Lieutenant McGuire found his voice at last. "Who are you?" he asked inwondering tones. "What does it mean? We were lost--and you saved us. But you--you are not like the others. " And he repeated, "What does itmean?"

"No, " said the other with a slight smile, "we truly are not like thoseothers. They are not men such as you and I. They are something lessthan human: animals--vermin!--from whom God, in His wisdom, has seenfit to withhold the virtues that raise men higher than the beasts. "

His face hardened as he spoke and for a moment the eyes were stern, but he smiled again as he continued. 

"And we, " he said, "you ask who we are. We are the people of Venus. Iam Djorn, ruler, in name, of all. 'In name' I say, for we rule here bycommon reason; I am only selected to serve. And this is my sister, Althora. The name, with us, means 'radiant light. '" He turned toexchange smiles with the girl at his side. "We think her well named, "he said. 

"The others, "--he waved toward the throng that clustered about--"youwill learn to know in time. "

 * * * * *

Professor Sykes felt the need of introductions. 

"This is Lieutenant--" he began, but the other interrupted with anupraised hand. 

"Mack Guire, " he supplied; "and you are Professor Sykes. .. . Oh, weknow you!" he laughed; "we have been watching you since your arrival;we have been waiting to help you. "

The professor was open-mouthed. 

"Your thoughts, " explained the other, "are as a printed page. We havebeen with you by mental contact at all times. We could hear, but, atthat distance, and--pardon me!--with your limited receptivity, wecould not communicate. 

"Do not resent our intrusion, " he added; "we listened only for our owngood, and we shall show you how to insulate your thoughts. We do notpry. "

Lieutenant McGuire waved all that aside. "You saved us from them, " hesaid; "that's the answer. But--what does it mean? Those others are incontrol; they are attacking our Earth, the world where we lived. Whydo you permit--?"

Again the other's face was set in sterner lines. 

"Yes, " he said, and his voice was full of unspoken regret, "they dorule this world; they _have_ attacked your Earth; they intend muchmore, and I fear they must be successful. Listen. Your wonderment isnatural, and I shall explain. 

"We are the people of Venus. Some centuries ago we ruled this world. Now you find us a handful only, living like moles in this underworld. "

"Underworld?" protested Professor Sykes. He pointed above to thefamiliar constellations. "Where are the clouds?" he asked. 

The girl, Althora, leaned forward now. "It will please my brother, "she said in a soft voice, "that you thought it real. He has hadpleasure in creating that--a replica of the skies we used to knowbefore the coming of the clouds. "

 * * * * *

Professor Sykes was bewildered. "That sky--the stars--they are notreal?" he asked incredulously. "But the grass--the flowers--"

Her laugh rippled like music. "Oh, they are real, " she told him, andher brother gave added explanation. 

"The lights, " he said: "we supply the actinic rays that the clouds cutoff above. We have sunlight here, made by our own hands; that is whywe are as we are and not like the red ones with their bleached skins. We had our lights everywhere through the world when we lived above, but those red beasts are ignorant; they do not know how to operatethem; they do not know that they live in darkness even in the light. "

"Then we are below ground?" asked the flyer. "You live here?"

"It is all we have now. At that time of which I tell, it was the redones who lived out of sight; they were a race of rodents in humanform. They lived in the subterranean caves with which this planet ispierced. We could have exterminated them at any time, but, in ourignorance, we permitted them to live, for we, of Venus--I use yourname for the planet--do not willingly take life. "

"They have no such compunctions!" Professor Sykes' voice was harsh; hewas remembering the sacrifice to the hungry plants. 

A flash as of pain crossed the sensitive features of the girl, and theman beside her seemed speaking to her in soundless words. 

"Your mind-picture was not pleasant, " he told the scientist; thencontinued:

"Remember, we were upon the world, and these others were within it. There came a comet. Oh, our astronomers plotted its course; they toldus we were safe. But at the last some unknown influence diverted it;its gaseous projection swept our world with flame. Only an instant;but when it had passed there was left only death. .. . "

 * * * * *

He was lost in recollection for a time; the girl beside him reachedover to touch his hand. 

"Those within--the red ones--escaped, " he went on. "They poured forthwhen they found that catastrophe had overwhelmed us. And we, thehandful that were left, were forced to take shelter here. We havelived here since, waiting for the day when the Master of Destiniesshall give us freedom and a world in which to live. "

"You speak, " suggested the scientist, "as if this had happened to you. Surely you refer to your ancestors; you are the descendants of thosewho were saved. "

"We are the people, " said the other. "We lived then; we live now; weshall live for a future of endless years. 

"Have you not searched for the means to control the lifeprinciple--you people of Earth?" he asked. "We have it here. Yousee"--and he waved a hand toward the standing throng--"we are young toyour eyes and the others who greeted you were the same. "

McGuire and the scientist exchanged glances of corroboration. 

"But your age, " asked Sykes, "measured in years?"

"We hardly measure life in years. "

Professor Sykes nodded slowly; his mind found difficulty in acceptingso astounding a fact. "But our language?" he queried. "How is it thatyou can speak our tongue?"

The tall man smiled and leaned forward to place a hand on a knee ofeach of the men beside him. "Why not, " he asked, "when there doubtlessis relationship between us. 

"You called the continent Atlantis. Perhaps its very existence is buta fable now: it has been many centuries since we have had instrumentsto record thought force from Earth, and we have lost touch. But, myfriends, even then we of Venus had conquered space, and it was we whovisited Atlantis to find a race more nearly like ourselves than werethe barbarians who held the other parts of Earth. 

"I was there, but I returned. There were some who stayed and they werelost with the others in the terrible cataclysm that sank a wholecontinent beneath the waters. But some, we have believed, escaped. "

"Why have you not been back?" the flyer asked. "You could have helpedus so much. "

"It was then that our own destruction came upon us. The same comet, perhaps, may have caused a change of stresses in your Earth and sunkthe lost Atlantis. Ah! That was a beautiful land, but we have neverseen it since. We have been--here. 

"But you will understand, now, " he added, "that, with our insight intoyour minds, we have little difficulty in mastering your language. "

This talk of science and incredible history left Lieutenant McGuirecold. His mind could not wander long from its greatest concern. 

"But the earth!" he exclaimed. "What about the earth? This attack!Those devils mean real mischief!"

"More than you know; more than you can realize, friend Mack Guire!"

"Why?" demanded the flyer. "Why?"

"Have your countries not reached out for other countries when land wasneeded?" asked the man, Djorn. "Land--land! Space in which tobreed--that is the reason for the invasion. 

"This world has no such continents as yours. Here the globe is coveredby the oceans; we have perhaps one hundredth of the land areas of yourEarth And the red ones breed like flies. Life means nothing to them;they die like flies, too. But they need more room; they intend to findit on your world. "

 * * * * *

"A strange race, " mused Professor Sykes. "They puzzled me. But--'lessthan human, ' I think you said. Then how about their ships? How couldthey invent them?"

"Ours--all ours! They found a world ready and waiting for them. Through the centuries they have learned to master some few of ourinventions. The ships!--the ethereal vibrations! Oh, they have beencleverer than we dreamed possible. "

"Well, how can we stop them?" demanded McGuire. "We must. You have thesubmarines--"

"One only, " the other interrupted. "We saved that, and we brought somemachinery. We have made this place habitable; we have not been idle. But there are limitations. "

"But your ray that you projected--it brought down their ship!"

"We were protecting you, and we protect ourselves; that is enough. There is One will deliver us in His own good time; we may not go forthand slaughter. "

There was a note of resignation and patience in the voice that filledMcGuire with hopeless forebodings. Plainly this was not an aggressiverace. They had evolved beyond the stage of wanton slaughter, and, evennow, they waited patiently for the day when some greater force shouldcome to their aid. 

The man beside them spoke quickly. "One moment--you will pardonme--someone is calling--" He listened intently to some soundless call, and he sent a silent message in reply. 

"I have instructed them, " he said. "Come and you shall see howimpregnable is our position. The red ones have resented ourdestruction of their ship. "

The face of the girl, Althora, was perturbed. "More killings?" sheasked. 

"Only as they force themselves to their own death, " her brother toldher. "Be not disturbed. "

 * * * * *

The throng in the vast space drew apart as the figure of their leaderstrode quickly through with the two men following close. There weremany rooms and passages; the men had glimpses of living quarters, ofplaces where machinery made soft whirring sounds; more sights thantheir eyes could see or their minds comprehend. They came at last toan open chamber. 

The men looked up to see above them a tremendous inverted-cone, andthere was the gold of cloudland glowing through an opening at the top. It was the inside of a volcano where they stood, and McGuireremembered the island and its volcanic peak where the ship had swervedaside. He felt that he knew now where they were. 

Above them, a flash of light marked the passage of a ship over thecrater's mouth, and he realized that the ships of the reds were notavoiding the island now. Did it mean an attack? And how could thesenew friends meet it?

Before them on the level volcanic floor were great machines that camesuddenly to life, and their roar rose to a thunder of violence, while, in the center, a cluster of electric sparks like whirling stars formeda cloud of blue fire. It grew, and its hissing, crackling lengthreached upward to a fine-drawn point that touched the opening above. 

"Follow!" commanded their leader and went rapidly before them where apassage wound and twisted to bring them at last to the light of day. 

The flame of the golden clouds was above them in the midday sky, andbeneath it were scores of ships that swept in formations through theair. 

"Attacking?" asked the lieutenant with ill-concealed excitement. 

"I fear so. They tried to gas us some centuries ago; it may be theyhave forgotten what we taught them then. "

 * * * * *

One squadron came downward and swept with inconceivable speed over aportion of the island that stretched below. The men were a shortdistance up on the mountain's side, and the scene that lay before themwas crystal clear. There were billowing clouds of gas that spread overthe land where the ships had passed. Other ships followed; they wouldblanket the island in gas. 

The man beside them gave a sigh of regret. "They have struck the firstblow, " he said. He stood silent with half-closed eyes; then: "I haveordered resistance. " And there was genuine sorrow and regret in hiseyes as he looked toward the mountain top. 

McGuire's eyes followed the other's gaze to find nothing at first savethe volcanic peak in hard outline upon the background of gold; thenonly a shimmer as of heat about the lofty cone. The air above himquivered, formed to ripples that spread in great circles where theenemy ships were flashing away. 

Swifter than swift aircraft, with a speed that shattered space, theyreached out and touched--and the ships, at that touch, fell helplesslydown from the heights. They turned awkwardly as they fell or droppedlike huge pointed projectiles. And the waters below took them silentlyand buried in their depths all trace of what an instant sooner hadbeen an argosy of the air. 

The ripples ceased, again the air was clear and untroubled, butbeneath the golden clouds was no single sign of life. 

 * * * * *

The flyer's breathless suspense ended in an explosive gasp. "What awashout!" he exclaimed, and again he thought only of this as a weaponto be used for his own ends. "Can we use that on their fleets?" heasked. "Why, man--they will never conquer the earth; they will nevereven make a start. "

The tall figure of Djorn turned and looked at him. "The lust to kill!"he said sadly. "You still have it--though you are fighting for yourown, which is some excuse. 

"No, this will not destroy their fleets, for their fleets will notcome here to be destroyed. It will be many centuries before ever againthe aircraft of the reds dare venture near. "

"We will build another one and take it where they are--" The voice ofthe fighting man was vibrant with sudden hope. 

"We were two hundred years building and perfecting this, " the othertold him. "Can you wait that long?"

And Lieutenant McGuire, as he followed dejectedly behind the leader, heard nothing of Professor Sykes' eager questions as to how thismiracle was done. 

"Can you wait that long?" this man, Djorn, had asked. And the flyersaw plainly the answer that spelled death and destruction to theworld. 

CHAPTER XIV

The mountains of Nevada are not noted for their safe and easy landingplaces. But the motor of the plane that Captain Blake was pilotingroared smoothly in the cool air while the man's eyes went searching, searching, for something, and he hardly knew what that something mightbe. 

He went over again, as he had done a score of times, the remarks ofLieutenant McGuire. Mac had laughed that day when he told Blake of hisexperience. 

"I was flying that transport, " he had said, "and, boy! when one motorbegan to throw oil I knew I was out of luck. Nothing but rocky peaksand valleys full of trees as thick and as pointed as a porcupine'squills. Flying pretty high to maintain altitude with one motor out, soI just naturally _had_ to find a place to set her down. I found it, too, though it seemed too good to be true off in that wilderness. 

"A fine level spot, all smooth rock, except for a few clumps of grass, and just bumpy enough to make the landing interesting. But, say, Captain! I almost cracked up at that, I was so darn busy staring atsomething else. 

"Off in some trees was a dirigible--Sure; go ahead and laugh; I didn'tbelieve it either, and I was looking at it. But there had been a whaleof a storm through there the day before, and it had knocked over sometrees that had been screening the thing, and there it was!

"Well, I came to in time to pull up her nose and miss a rock or two, and then I started pronto for that valley of trees and the thing thatwas buried among them. "

 * * * * *

Captain Blake recalled the conversation word for word, though he hadtreated it jokingly at the time. McGuire had found the ship and aman--a half-crazed nut, so it seemed--living there all alone. And hewasn't a bit keen about Mac's learning of the ship. But leave it toMac to get the facts--or what the old bird claimed were facts. 

There was the body of a youngster there, a man of about Mac's age. Hehad fallen and been killed the day before, and the old man was halfcrazy with grief. Mac had dug a grave and helped bury the body, andafter that the old fellow's story had come out. 

He had been to the moon, he said. And this was a space ship. Wouldn'ttell how it operated, and shut up like a clam when Mac asked if he hadgone alone. The young chap had gone with him, it seemed, and the manwouldn't talk--just sat and stared out at the yellow mound where theyoungster was buried. 

Mac had told Blake how he argued with the man to prove up on hisclaims and make a fortune for himself. But no--fortunes didn'tinterest him. And there were some this-and-that and be-damned-to-'empeople who would never get _this_ invention--the dirty, thieving rats!

And Mac, while he laughed, had seemed half to believe it. Said the oldcuss was so sincere, and he had nothing to sell. And--there was theship! It never got there without being flown in, that was a cinch. Andthere wasn't a propellor on it nor a place for one--just open portswhere a blast came out, or so the inventor said. 

Captain Blake swung his ship on another slanting line and continued tocomb the country for such marks as McGuire had seen. And one moment hetold himself he was a fool to be on any such hunt, while the nextthought would remind him that Mac had believed. And Mac had a levelhead, and he had radioed from Venus!

There was the thing that made anything seem possible. Mac had got amessage through, across that space, and the enemy had ships that coulddo it. Why not this one?

And always his eyes were searching, searching, for a level rockyexpanse and a tree-filled valley beyond, with something, it might be, shining there, unless the inventor had camouflaged it more carefullynow. 

 * * * * *

It was later on the same day when Captain Blake's blocky figureclimbed over the side of the cockpit. Tired? Yes! But who could thinkof cramped limbs and weary muscles when his plane was resting on abroad, level expanse of rock in the high Sierras and a sharp-cutvalley showed thick with pines beyond. He could see the corner only ofa rough log shack that protruded. 

Blake scrambled over a natural rampart of broken stone and wentswiftly toward the cabin. But he stopped abruptly at the sound of aharsh voice. 

"Stop where you are, " the voice ordered, "and stick up your hands!Then turn around and get back as fast as you can to that plane ofyours. " There was a glint of sunlight on a rifle barrel in the windowof the cabin. 

Captain Blake stopped, but he did not turn. "Are you Mr. Winslow?" heasked. 

"That's nothing to you! Get out! Quick!"

Blake was thinking fast. Here was the man, without doubt--and he washostile as an Apache; the man behind that harsh voice meant business. How could he reach him? The inspiration came at once. McGuire was thekey. 

"If you're Winslow, " he called in a steady voice, "you don't want meto go away; you want to talk with me. There's a young friend of yoursin a bad jam. You are the only one who can help. "

"I haven't any friends, " said the rasping voice: "I don't want any!Get out!"

"You had one, " said the captain, "whether you wanted him or not. Hebelieved in you--like the other young chap who went with you to themoon. "

 * * * * *

There was an audible gasp of dismay from the window beyond, and thebarrel of the rifle made trembling flickerings in the sun. 

"You mean the flyer?" asked the voice, and it seemed to have lost itsharsher note. "The pleasant young fellow?"

"I mean McGuire, who helped give decent burial to your friend. And nowhe has been carried off--out into space--and you can help him. Ifyou've a spark of decency in you, you will hear what I have to say. "

The rifle vanished within the cabin; a door opened to frame a pictureof a tall man. He was stooped; the years, or solitude, perhaps, hadborne heavily upon him; his face was a mat of gray beard that was acontinuation of the unkempt hair above. The rifle was still in hishand. 

But he motioned to the waiting man, and "Come in!" he commanded. "I'llsoon know if you're telling the truth. God help you if you're not. .. . Come in. "

An hour was needed while the bearded man learned the truth. And Blake, too, picked up some facts. He learned to his great surprise that hewas talking with an educated man, one who had spent a lifetime inscientific pursuits. And now, as the figure before him seemed more thescientist and less the crazed fabricator of wild fancies, the truth ofhis claims seemed not so remote. 

Half demented now, beyond a doubt! A lifetime of disappointments andone invention after another stolen from him by those who knew more oflaw than of science. And now he held fortune in the secret of hisship--a secret which he swore should never be given to the world. 

"Damn the world!" he snarled. "Did the world ever give anything to me?And what would they do with this? They would prostitute it to theirown selfish ends; it would be just one more means to conquer and kill;and the capitalists would have it in their own dirty hands so that newlines of transportation beyond anything they dared dream would betheirs to exploit. "

 * * * * *

Blake, remembering the history of a commercial age, found no readyreply to that. But he told the man of McGuire and the things that hadmade him captive; he related what he, himself, had seen in the darknight on Mount Lawson, and he told of the fragmentary message thatshowed McGuire was still alive. 

"There's only one way to save him, " he urged. "If your ship is whatyou claim it is--and I believe you one hundred per cent--it is allthat can save him from what will undoubtedly be a horrible death. Those things were monsters--inhuman!--and they have bombarded theearth. They will come back in less than a year and a half to destroyus. "

Captain Blake would have said he was no debater, but the argument andpersuasion that he used that night would have done credit to aSocrates. His opponent was difficult to convince, and not till thenext day did the inventor show Blake his ship. 

"Small, " he said as he led the flyer toward it. "Designed just for themoon trip, and I had meant to go alone. But it served; it took usthere and back again. "

He threw open a door in the side of the metal cylinder. Blake stoodback for only a moment to size up the machine, to observe its smoothduralumin shell and the rounded ends where portholes opened for theexpelling of its driving blast. The door opening showed a thick wallthat gave insulation. Blake followed the inventor to the interior ofthe ship. 

 * * * * *

The man had seen Winslow examining the thick walls. "It's cold outthere, you know, " he said, and smiled in recollection, "but thegenerator kept us warm. " He pointed to a simple cylindrical castingaft of the ship's center part. It was massive, and braced to theframework of the ship to distribute a thrust that Blake knew must betremendous. Heavy conduits took the blast that it produced and pouredit from ports at bow and stern. There were other outlets, too, aboveand below and on the sides, and electric controls that weremanipulated from a central board. 

"You've got a ship, " Blake admitted, "and it's a beauty. I knowconstruction, and you've got it here. But what is the power? How doyou drive it? What throws it out through space?"

"Aside from one other, you will be the only man ever to know. " Thebearded man was quiet now and earnest. The wild light had faded fromhis eyes, and he pondered gravely in making the last and finaldecision. 

"Yes, you shall have it. It may be I have been mistaken. I have knownpeople--some few--who were kindly and decent; I have let the othersprejudice me. But there was one who was my companion--and there wasMcGuire, who was kind and who believed. And now you, who will giveyour life for a friend and to save humanity!. .. You shall have it. Youshall have the ship! But I will not go with you. I want nothing ofglory or fame, and I am too old to fight. My remaining years I chooseto spend out here. " He pointed where a window of heavy glass showedthe outer world and a grave on a sloping hill. 

 * * * * *

"But you shall have full instructions. And, for the present, you mayknow that it is a continuous explosion that drives the ship. I havelearned to decompose water into its components and split them intosubatomic form. They reunite to give something other than matter. Itis a liquid--liquid energy, though the term is inaccurate--thatseparates out in two forms, and a fluid ounce of each is the productof thousands of tons of water. The potential energy is all there. Acurrent releases it; the energy components reunite to give matteragain--hydrogen and oxygen gas. Combustion adds to their volumethrough heat. 

"It is like firing a cannon in there, "--he pointed now to the massivegenerator--"a super-cannon of tremendous force and a cannon that firescontinuously. The endless pressure of expansion gives the thrust thatmeans a constant acceleration of motion out there where gravity islost. 

"You will note, " he added, "that I said 'constant acceleration. ' Itmeans building up to speeds that are enormous. "

Blake nodded in half-understanding. 

"We will want bigger ships, " he mused. "They must mount guns and beheavy enough to take the recoil. This is only a sample; we mustdesign, experiment, build them! Can it be done? . .. It _must_ bedone!" he concluded and turned to the inventor. 

"We don't know much about those devils of the stars, and they may havemeans of attack beyond anything we can conceive, but there is just oneway to learn: go up there and find out, and take a licking if we haveto. Now, how about taking me up a mile or so in the air?"

 * * * * *

The other smiled in self-deprecation. "I like a good fighter, " hesaid; "I was never one myself. If I had been I would have accomplishedmore. Yes, you shall go up a mile or so in the air--and a thousandmiles beyond. " He turned to close the door and seal it fast. 

Beside the instrument board he seated himself, and at his touch thegenerator of the ship came startlingly to life. It grumbled softly atfirst, then the hoarse sound swelled to a thunderous roar, while themetal grating surged up irresistibly beneath the captain's feet. Hisweight was intolerable. He sank helplessly to the floor. .. . 

Blake was white and shaken when he alighted from the ship an hourlater, but his eyes were ablaze with excitement. He stopped to seizethe tall man by the shoulders. 

"I am only a poor devil of a flying man, " he said, "but I am speakingfor the whole world right now. You have saved us; you've furnished themeans. It is up to us now. You've given us the right to hope thathumanity can save itself, if humanity will do it. That's my nextjob--to convince them. We have less than a year and a half. .. . "

 * * * * *

There was one precious week wasted while Captain Blake chafed andwaited for a conference to be arranged at Washington. A spirit ofhopelessness had swept over the world--hopelessness and a mental sloththat killed every hope with the unanswerable argument: "What is theuse? It is the end. " But a meeting was arranged at Colonel Boynton'sinsistence, though his superiors scoffed at what he dared suggest. 

Blake appeared before the meeting, and he told them what he knew--toldit to the last detail, while he saw the looks of amusement orcommiseration that passed from man to man. 

There were scientists there who asked him coldly a question or two andshrugged a supercilious shoulder; ranking officers of both army andnavy who openly excoriated Colonel Boynton for bringing them to hearthe wild tale of a half-demented man. It was this that drove Blake toa cold frenzy. 

The weeks of hopeless despair had worn his nerves to the breakingpoint, and now, with so much to be done, and so little time in whichto do it, all requirements of official etiquette were swept aside ashe leaped to his feet to face the unbelieving men. 

"Damn it!" he shouted, "will you sit here now and quibble over whatyou think in your wisdom is possible or not. Get outside thosedoors--there's an open park beyond--and I'll knock your technicalitiesall to hell!"

The door slammed behind him before the words could be spoken to placehim under arrest, and he tore across a velvet lawn to leap into ataxi. 

There was a rising storm of indignant protest within the room that hehad left. There were admirals, purple of face, who made heated remarksabout the lack of discipline in the army, and generals who turnedaccusingly where the big figure of Colonel Boynton was still seated. 

It was the Secretary of War who stilled the tumult and claimed theprivilege of administering the rebuke which was so plainly needed. "Colonel Boynton, " he said, and there was no effort to soften thecutting edge of sarcasm in his voice, "it was at your request andsuggestion that this outrageous meeting was held. Have you any morerequests or suggestions?"

The colonel rose slowly to his feet. 

"Yes, Mr. Secretary, " he said coldly, "I have. I know Captain Blake. He seldom makes promises; when he does he makes good. My suggestion isthat you do what the gentleman said--step outside and see yourtechnicalities knocked to hell. " He moved unhurriedly toward the door. 

 * * * * *

It was a half-hour's wait, and one or two of the more openly skepticalhad left when the first roar came faintly from above. Colonel Boyntonled the others to the open ground before the building. "I have alwaysfound Blake a man of his word, " he said quietly, and pointed upwardwhere a tiny speck was falling from a cloud-flecked sky. 

Captain Blake had had little training in the operation of the ship, but he had flown it across the land and had concealed it where fellowofficers were sworn to secrecy. And he felt that he knew how to handlethe controls. 

But the drop from those terrible heights was a fearful thing, and itended only a hundred feet above the heads of the cowering, shoutinghumans who crouched under the thunderous blast, where a great shellchecked its vertical flight and rebounded to the skies. 

Again and again the gleaming cylinder drove at them like a projectilefrom the mortars of the gods, and it roared and thundered through theair or turned to vanish with incredible speed straight up into theheights, to return and fall again . .. Until finally it hung motionlessa foot above the grass from which the uniformed figures had fled. OnlyColonel Boynton was there to greet the flyer as he laid his strangecraft gently down. 

"Nice little show, Captain, " he said, while his broad face broke intothe widest of grins. "A damn nice little show! But take that look offof your face. They'll listen to you now; they'll eat right out of yourhand. "

CHAPTER XV

If Lieutenant McGuire could have erased from his mind the thought ofthe threat that hung over the earth he would have found nothing butintensest pleasure in the experiences that were his. 

But night after night they had heard the reverberating echoes of thegiant gun speeding its messenger of death toward the earth, and he sawas plainly as if he were there the terrible destruction that must comewhere the missiles struck. Gas, of course; that seemed the chief andonly weapon of these monsters, and Djorn, the elected leader of theVenus folk, confirmed him in this surmise. 

"We had many gases, " he told McGuire, "but we used them for good ends. You people of Earth--or these invaders, if they conquer Earth--mustsome day engage in a war more terrible than wars between men. Theinsects are your greatest foe. With a developing civilization goes themultiplication of insect and bacterial life. We used the gases forthat war, and we made this world a heaven. " He sighed regretfully forhis lost world. 

"These red ones found them, and our factories for making them. Butthey have no gift for working out or mastering the other means we hadfor our defense--the electronic projectors, the creation of tremendousmagnetic fields: you saw one when we destroyed the attacking ships. Our scientists had gone far--"

"I wish to Heaven you had some of them to use now, " said thelieutenant savagely, and the girl, Althora, standing near, smiled insympathy for the flyer's distress. But her brother, Djorn, onlymurmured: "The lust to kill: that is something to be overcome. "

The fatalistic resignation of these folk was disturbing to a man ofaction like McGuire. His eyes narrowed, and his lips were set for anabrupt retort when Althora intervened. 

"Come, " she said, and took the flyer's hand. "It is time for food. "

 * * * * *

She took him to the living quarters occupied by her brother andherself, where opal walls and jewelled inlays were made lovely by thesoft light that flooded the rooms. 

"Just one tablet, " she said, and brought him a thin white disc, "thenplenty of water. You must take this compressed food often and in smallquantities till your system is accustomed. "

"You make this?" he asked. 

"But certainly. Our chemists are learned men. We should lack for food, otherwise, here in our underground home. "

He let the tablet dissolve in his mouth. Althora leaned forward totouch his hand gently. 

"I am sorry, " she said, "that you and Djorn fail to understand oneanother. He is good--so good! But you--you, too, are good, and youfear for the safety of your own people. "

"They will be killed to the last woman and child, " he replied, "orthey will be captured, which will be worse. "

"I understand, " she told him, and pressed his hand; "and if I canhelp, Lieutenant Mack Guire, I shall be so glad. "

He smiled at her stilted pronunciation of his name. He had had thegirl for an almost constant companion since his arrival; the sexes, hefound, were on a level of mutual freedom, and the girl's companionshipwas offered and her friendship expressed as openly as might have beenthat of a youth. Of Sykes he saw little; Professor Sykes was deep inastronomical discussions with the scientists of this world. 

But she was charming, this girl of a strange race so like his own. Askin from the velvet heart of a rose and eyes that looked deep intohis and into his mind when he permitted; eyes, too, that could crinkleto ready laughter or grow misty when she sang those weird melodies ofsuch thrilling sweetness. 

Only for the remembrance of Earth and the horrible feeling of impotentfury, Lieutenant McGuire would have found much to occupy his thoughtsin this loveliest of companions. 

 * * * * *

He laughed now at the sounding of his name, and the girl laughed withhim. 

"But it _is_ your name, is it not?" she asked. 

"Lieutenant Thomas McGuire, " he repeated, "and those who like me callme 'Mac. '"

"Mac, " she repeated. "But that is so short and hard sounding. And whatdo those who love you say?"

The flyer grinned cheerfully. "There aren't many who could qualify inthat respect, but if there were they would call me Tommy. "

"That is better, " said Althora with engaging directness; "that is muchbetter--Tommy. " Then she sprang to her feet and hurried him out wheresome further wonders must be seen and exclaimed over without delay. But Lieutenant McGuire saw the pink flush that crept into her face, and his own heart responded to the telltale betrayal of her feelingfor him. For never in his young and eventful life had the man foundanyone who seemed so entirely one with himself as did this lovely girlfrom a distant star. 

He followed where she went dancing on her way, but not for long couldhis mind be led away from the menace he could not forget. And on thisday, as on many days to come, he struggled and racked his brain tofind some way in which he could thwart the enemy and avert or delaytheir stroke. 

 * * * * *

It was another day, and they were some months on their long journeyaway from the earth when an inspiration came. Althora had offered tohelp, and he knew well how gladly she would aid him; the feelingbetween them had flowered into open, if unspoken love. Not that hewould subject her to any danger--he himself would take all of thatwhen it came--but meanwhile--

"Althora, " he asked her, "can you project your mind into that of oneof the reds?"

"I could, easily, " she replied, "but it would not be pleasant. Theirminds are horrible; they reek of evil things. " She shuddered at thethought, but the man persisted. 

"But if you could help, would you be willing? I can do so little; Ican never stop them; but I may save my people from some suffering atleast. Here is my idea:

"Djorn tells me that I had it figured right: they plan an invasion ofthe earth when next the two planets approach. He has told me of theirarmies and their fleets of ships that will set off into space. I can'tprevent it; I am helpless! But if I knew what their leader wasthinking--"

"Torg!" she exclaimed. "You want to know the mind of that beast ofbeasts!"

"Yes, " said the man. "It might be of value. Particularly if I couldknow something of their great gun--where it is and what it is--well, Imight do something about that. "

The girl averted her eyes from the savage determination on his face. "No--no!" she exclaimed; "I could not. Not Torg!"

McGuire's own face fell at the realization of the enormity of thisfavor he had demanded. "That's all right, " he said and held her softhand in his; "just forget it. I shouldn't have asked. "

But she whispered as she turned to walk away: "I must think, I mustthink. You ask much of me, Tommy; but oh, Tommy, I would do much foryou!" She was sobbing softly as she ran swiftly away. 

And the man in khaki--this flyer of a distant air-service--strodeblindly off to rage and fume at his helplessness and his inability tostrike one blow at those beings who lived in that world above. 

 * * * * *

There were countless rooms and passages where the work of the worldbelow went on. There were men and women whose artistic ability foundoutlet in carvings and sculpture, chemists and others whose work wasthe making of foods and endless experimentation, some thousand of menand women in the strength of their endless youth, who worked for thelove of the doing and lived contentedly and happily while they waitedfor the day of their liberation. But of fighters there were none, andfor this Lieutenant McGuire grieved wholeheartedly. 

He was striding swiftly along where a corridor ended in blacknessahead. There was a gleaming machine on the floor beside him when ahand clutched at his arm and a warning voice exclaimed: "No further, Lieutenant McGuire; you must not go!"

"Why?" questioned the lieutenant. "I've got to walk--do something tokeep from this damnable futile thinking. "

"But not there, " said the other; "it is a place of death. Ten pacesmore and you would have vanished in a flicker of flame. Theprojector"--he touched the mechanism beside them--"is always on. Ourcaves extend in an endless succession; they join with the labyrinthwhere the red ones used to live. They could attack us but for this. Nothing can live in its invisible ray; they are placed at all suchentrances. "

"Yet Djorn, " McGuire told himself slowly, "said they had no weapons. He knows nothing of war. But, great heavens! what wouldn't I give fora regiment of scrappers--good husky boys with their faces tanned and aspark in their eyes and their gas masks on their chests. With aregiment, and equipment like this--"

And again he realized the futility of armament with none to serve anddirect it. 

 * * * * *

It was a month or more before Althora consented to the tests. Djornadvised against it and made his protest emphatic, but here, as in allthings, Althora was a free agent. It was her right to do as she sawfit, and there was none to prevent in this small world whereindividual liberty was unquestioned. 

And it was still longer before she could get anything of importance. The experiments were racking to her nerves, and McGuire, seeing theterrible strain upon her, begged her to stop. But Althora had gainedthe vision that was always before her loved one's eyes--a world ofdeath and disaster--and he, here where the bolt would be launched, andpowerless to prevent. She could not be dissuaded now. 

It was a proud day for Althora when she sent for McGuire, and he foundher lying at rest, eyes closed in her young face that was lined andtortured with the mental horror she was contacting. She silenced hisprotests with a word. 

"The gun, " she whispered; "they are talking about the gun . .. And thebombardment . .. Planning. .. . "

More silent concentration. Then:

"The inland of Bergo, " she said, "--remember that! The gun is there . .. A great bore in the earth . .. Solid rock . .. But the casing oftitanite must be reinforced . .. And bands shrunk about the muzzle thatprojects . .. Heavy bands . .. It shows signs of distortion--theheat!. .. "

She was listening to the thoughts, and selecting those that bore upongun. 

". .. Only fifty days . .. The bombardment must begin . .. Tahnor hasprovided a hundred shells; two thousand tals of the green gas-powderin each one . .. The explosive charges ready . .. Yes--yes!. .. "

"Oh!" she exclaimed and opened her troubled eyes. "The beast is socomplacent, so sure! And the bombardment will begin in fifty days!Will it really cause them anguish on your Earth, Tommy?"

"Just plain hell; that's all!"

McGuire's voice was low; his mind was reaching out to find and rejectone plan after another. The gun!. .. He must disable it; he could dothat much at least. For himself--well, what of it?--he would die, ofcourse. 

The guard he had been taught to place about his own thoughts must haverelaxed, for Althora cried out in distress. 

"No--no!" she protested; "you shall not! I have tried to help you, Tommy dear--say that I have helped you!--but, oh, my beloved, do notgo. Do not risk your life to silence this one weapon. They would stillhave their ships. Remember what Djorn has told of their mighty fleets, their thousands of fighting men. You cannot stop them; you can hardlyhinder them. And you would throw away your life! Oh, please do notgo!"

McGuire was seated beside her. His face was hidden in one hand whilethe other was held tight between the white palms of Althora's tensehands. He said nothing, and he shielded his eyes and locked his mindagainst her thought force. 

"Tommy, " said Althora, and now her voice was all love and softness, "Tommy, my dear one! You will not go, for what can you do? And if youstay--oh, my dear!--you can have what you will--the secret of lifeshall be yours--to live forever in perpetual youth. You may have that. And me, Tommy. .. . Would you throw your life away in a hopelessattempt, when life might hold so much? Am I offering so little, Tommy?"

And still the silence and the hand that kept the eyes from meetinghers; then a long-drawn breath and a slim figure in khaki that stoodunconsciously erect to look, not at the girl, but out beyond the solidwalls, through millions of miles of space, to the helpless speckcalled Earth. 

"You offer me heaven, my dear, " he spoke softly. "But sometimes"--andhis lips twisted into a ghost of a smile--"sometimes, to earn ourheaven, we have to fight like hell. And, if we fail to make the fight, what heaven worth having is left?

"And the people, " he said softly; "the homes in the cities and townsand villages. My dear, that's part of loving a soldier: you can neverown him altogether; his allegiance is divided. And if I failed my ownfolk what right would I have to you?"

 * * * * *

He dared to look at the girl who lay before him. That other vision wasgone but he had seen a clear course charted, and now, with his mind atrest, he could smile happily at the girl who was looking up at himthrough her tears. 

She rose slowly to her feet and stood before him to lay firm handsupon his shoulders. She was almost as tall as he, and her eyes, thathad shaken off their tears but for a dewy fringe, looked deep andstraight into his. 

"We have thought, " she said slowly, "we people of this world, that wewere superior to you and yours; we have accepted you as someone ashade below our plane of advancement. Yes, we have dared to believethat. But I know better. We have gone far, Tommy, we people of thisstar; we have lived long. Yet I am wondering if we have lost somevirtues that are the heritage of a sterner race. 

"But I am learning, Tommy; I am so thankful that I can learn and thatI have had you to teach me. We will go together, you and I. We willfight our fight, and, the Great One willing, we will earn our heavenor find it elsewhere--together. "

She leaned forward to kiss the tall man squarely upon the lips withher own soft rose-petal lips that clung and clung . .. And the reply ofLieutenant McGuire, while it was entirely wordless, seemed eminentlysatisfactory. 

 * * * * *

Althora, the beautiful daughter of Venus, had the charm and allure ofher planet's fabled namesake. But she thought like a man and sheplanned like a man. And there was no dissuading her from her course. She was to fight beside McGuire--that was her intention--and beyondthat there was no value in argument. McGuire was forced to accept theinsistent aid, and he needed help. 

Sykes dropped his delving into astronomical lore and answered to thecall, but there was no other assistance. Only the three, McGuire, Althora and Sykes. There were some who would agree to pilot thesubmarine that was being outfitted, but they would have no part in theventure beyond transporting the participants. 

More than once McGuire paused to curse silently at the complaisance ofthis people. What could he not do if they would help. Ten companies oftrained men, armed with their deadly electronic projectors thatdisintegrated any living thing they reached--and he would clutch athis tousled hair and realize that they were only three, and go grimlyback to work. 

"I don't know what we can do till we get there, " he told Sykes. "Herewe are, and there is the gun: that is all we know, except that thething must be tremendous and our only hope is that there is somefiring mechanism that we can destroy. The gun itself is a greatdrilling in the solid rock, lined with one of their steel alloys, andwith a big barrel extending up into the air: Althora has learned that. 

"They went deep into the rock and set the firing chamber there; it'sheavy enough to stand the stress. They use a gas-powder, as Althoracalls it, for the charge, and the same stuff but deadlier is in theshell. But they must have underground workings for loading and firing. Is there a chance for us to get in there, I wonder! There's the bigbarrel that projects. We might . .. But no!--that's too big for us totackle, I'm afraid. "

"How about that electronic projector on the submarine?" Sykessuggested. "Remember how it melted out the heart of that big ship? Wecould do a lot with that. "

"Not a chance! Djorn and the others have strictly forbidden the men toturn it on the enemy since they have given no offense. 

"No offense!" he repeated, and added a few explosive remarks. 

"No, it looks like a case of get there and do what dirty work we canto their mechanism before they pot us--and that's that!"

 * * * * *

But Sykes was directing his thoughts along another path. 

"I wonder . .. " he mused; "it might be done: they have laboratories. "

"What are you talking about? For the love of heaven, man, if you'regot an idea, let's have it. I'm desperate. "

"Nitrators!" said the scientist. "I have been getting on pretty goodterms with the scientific crowd here, and I've seen some mighty prettymanufacturing laboratories. And they have equipment that was nevermeant for the manufacture of nitro-explosives, but, with a fewmodifications--yes, I think it could be done. "

"You mean nitro-glycerine? TNT?"

"Something like that. Depends upon what materials we can get to startwith. "

The lieutenant was pounding his companion upon the back and shoutinghis joy at this faintest echo of encouragement. 

"We'll plant it alongside the gun--No, we'll get into their workingunderground. We'll blow their equipment into scrap-iron, and perhapswe can even damage the gun itself!" He was almost beside himself withexcitement at thought of a weapon being placed in his straininghelpless hands. 

 * * * * *

It was the earth-shaking thunder of the big gun that hastened theirfinal preparations and made McGuire tremble with suppressed excitementwhere he helped Sykes to draw off a syrupy liquid into heavy crystalflasks. 

There were many of these, and the two men would allow no others totouch them, but stored them themselves and nested each one in a softbed within the submarine. Then one last repetition of theirhalf-formed plans to Djorn and his followers and a rush toward thewharf where the submarine was waiting. 

Althora was waiting, too, and McGuire wasted minutes in a petitionthat he knew was futile. 

"Wait here, Althora, " he begged. "I will come back; this is no venturefor you to undertake. I can take my chances with them, but you--! Itis no place for you, " he concluded lamely. 

"There is no other place for me, " she said; "only where you are. " Andshe led the way while the others followed into the lighted controlroom of the big under-water craft. 

McGuire's eyes were misty with a blurring of tears that were partlyfrom excitement, but more from a feeling of helpless remonstrance thatwas mingled with pure pride. And his lips were set in a straight line. 

The magnetic pull that held them to their anchorage was reversed; theship beneath them was slipping smoothly beneath the surface and out tosea, guided through its tortuous windings of water-worn caves androcky chambers under the sea by the invisible electric cords that drewit where they would. 

And ahead on some mysterious island was a gun, a thing of size andpower beyond anything of Earth. He was going to spike that gun if itwas the last act of his life; and Althora was going with him. He drewher slim body to him, while his eyes stared blindly, hopefully, towardwhat the future held. 

CHAPTER XVI

Throughout the night they drove hour after hour at terrific speed. Theship was running submerged, for McGuire was taking no slightest chanceof their being observed from the air. He and the others slept attimes, for the crew that handled the craft very evidently knew theexact course, and there were mechanical devices that insured theirsafety. A ray was projected continuously ahead of them; it wouldreflect back and give on an indicator instant warning of any derelictor obstruction. Another row of quivering needles gave by the samemethod the soundings from far ahead. 

But the uncertainty of what their tomorrow might hold and the worryand dread lest he find himself unable to damage the big gun made realrest impossible for McGuire. 

But he was happy and buoyant with hope when, at last, the green lightfrom the ports showed that the sun was shining up above, and theslackening drive of the submarine's powerful motors told that theirobjective was in sight. 

They lay quietly at last while a periscope of super-sensitiveness wasthrust cautiously above the water. It brought in a panoramic view ofthe shoreline ahead, amplified it and projected the picture inclear-cut detail upon a screen. If Lieutenant McGuire had stood on thewet deck above and looked directly at the island the sight could havebeen no clearer. The colors of torn and blasted tree-growths showed inall their pale shades, and there was stereoscopic depth to the picturethat gave no misleading illusions as to distance. 

The shore was there with the white spray of breakers on a rocky shoal, and a beach beyond. And beyond that, in hard outline against a goldensky, was a gigantic tube that stood vertically in air to reach beyondthe upper limits of the periscope's vision. 

 * * * * *

McGuire tingled at the sight. To be within reach of this weapon thathad sent those blasting, devastating missiles upon the earth! He pacedback and forth in the small room to stop and stare again, and resumehis pacing that helped to while away the hours they must wait. Forthere were man-shapes swarming over the land, and the dull, blood-redof their loose uniforms marked them as members of the fighting forcespawned by this prolific breed. 

"Not a chance until they're out of the picture, " said the impatientman; "they would snow us under. It's just as I thought: we must waituntil the gun is ready to fire; then they will beat it. They won'twant to be around when that big boy cuts loose. "

"And then?" asked Althora. 

"Then Sykes and I will take our collection of gallon flasks ashore, and I sure hope we don't stumble. " He grinned cheerfully at the girl. 

"That reinforced concrete dome seems to be where they get down intothe ground; it is close to the base of the gun. We will go there--blowit open if we have to--but manage in some way to get down below. Thena time-fuse on the charge, and the boat will take me off, and we willleave as fast as these motors can drive us. "

He omitted to mention any possible danger to Sykes and himself in thehandling of their own explosive, and he added casually, "You will stayhere and see that there is no slip-up on the getaway. "

He had to translate the last remark into language the girl couldunderstand. But Althora shook her head. 

"You do try so hard to get rid of me, Tommy, " the laughed, "but it isno use. I am going with you--do not argue--and I will help you withthe attack. Three will work faster than two--and I am going. "

McGuire was silent, then nodded his assent. He was learning, thisEarth-man, what individual freedom really meant. 

 * * * * *

Only the western sky showed golden masses on the shining screen whenMcGuire spoke softly to the captain:

"Your men will put us ashore; you may ask them to stand by now. " Andto Professor Sykes, "Better get that 'soup' of yours ready to load. "

The red-clad figures were growing dim on the screen, and the blotchesof colors that showed where they were grouped were few. Some therewere who left such groups to flee precipitately toward a waitingairship. 

This was something the lieutenant had not foreseen. He had expectedthat the force that served the gun would have some shock-proofshelter; he had not anticipated a fighting ship to take them away. 

"That's good, " he exulted; "that is a lucky break. If they just getout of sight we will have the place to ourselves. "

There were no red patches on the screen now, and the picture thrownbefore them showed the big ship, its markings of red and whitedistinct even in the shadow-light of late afternoon, rising slowlyinto the air. It gathered speed marvelously and vanished to a speckbeyond the land. 

"We're getting the breaks, " said McGuire crisply. "All right--let'sgo!"

The submarine rose smoothly, and the sealed doors in thesuperstructure were opened while yet there was water to come tricklingin. Men came with a roll of cloth that spread open to the shape of asmall boat, while a metal frame expanded within it to hold it taut. 

McGuire gasped with dismay as a seaman launched it and leaped heavilyinto the frail shell to attach a motor to one end. 

"Metal!" the captain reassured him; "woven metal, and water-tight! Youcould not pierce it with anything less than a projector. "

 * * * * *

Sykes was ready with one of the crystal flasks as the boat was broughtalongside, and McGuire followed with another. They took ten of theharmless-looking containers, and both men held their breaths as theboat grounded roughly on the boulder-strewn shore. 

They lifted them out and bedded them in the sand, then returned to thesubmarine. This time Althora, too, stepped into the boat. They loadedin the balance of the containers; the motor purred. Another landing, and they stood at last on the island, where a mammoth tube toweredinto the sky and the means for its destruction was at their feet. 

But there was little time; already the light was dimming, and the timefor the firing of the big weapon was drawing near. The men worked likemad to carry the flasks to the base of the gun, where a dome ofconcrete marked the entrance to the rooms below. 

Each man held a flask of the deadly fluid when Althora led the waywhere stairs went deep down into the earth under the domed roof. Thispart of the work had been foreseen, and the girl held a slendercylinder that threw a beam of light, intensely bright. 

They found a surprising simplicity in the arrangements underground. Two rooms only had been carved from the solid rock, and one of theseended in a wall of gray metal that could be only the great base of thegun. But nowhere was a complication of mechanism that might be damagedor destroyed, nor any wiring or firing device. 

A round door showed sharp edges in the gray metal, but only thestrength of many men could have removed its huge bolts, and these twoknew there must be other doors to seal in the mighty charge. 

"Not a wire!" the scientist exclaimed. "How do they fire it?" Theanswer came to him with the question. 

"Radio, of course; and the receiving set is in the charge itself; thebarrel of the gun is its own antenna. They must fire it from adistance--back on the island where we were, perhaps. It would need tobe accurately timed. "

"Come on!" shouted McGuire, and raised the flask of explosive to hisshoulder. 

 * * * * *

Each one knew the need for haste; each waited every moment for theterrible blast of gun-fire that would jar their bodies to a lifelesspulp or, by detonating their own explosive, destroy them utterly. Butthey carried the flasks again to the top, and the three of them workedbreathlessly to place their whole supply where McGuire directed. 

The massive barrel of the gun was beside them; it was held intremendous castings of metal that bolted to anchorage in the ground. One great brace had an overhanging flange; the explosive was placedbeneath it. 

Professor Sykes had come prepared. He attached a detonator to one ofthe flasks, and while the other two were placing the explosive inposition he fastened two wires to the apparatus with steady buthurrying fingers; then at full speed he ran with the spool from whichthe wires unwound. 

McGuire and Althora were behind him, running for the questionablesafety of the sand-hills. Sykes stopped in the shelter of a tinyvalley where winds had heaped the sand. 

"Down!" he shouted. "Get down--behind that sand dune, there!"

He dropped beside them, the bared ends of the wires in his hands. There was a battery, too, a case no larger than his hands. ProfessorSykes, it appeared, had gained some few concessions from his friends, who had learned to respect him in the field of science. 

One breathless moment he waited; then--

"Now!" he whispered, and touched the battery's terminals with the barewires. 

 * * * * *

To McGuire it seemed, in that instant of shattering chaos, that thegreat gun itself must have fired. He had known the jar of heavyartillery at close range; he had had experience with explosives. Hehad even been near when a government arsenal had thrown thecountryside into a hell of jarring, ear-splitting pandemonium. But theconcussion that shook the earth under him now was like nothing he hadknown. 

The hill of sand that sheltered them vanished to sweep in a sheetabove their heads. And the air struck down with terrific weight, thenleft them in an airless void that seemed to make their bodies swelland explode. It rushed back in a whirling gale to sweep showers ofsand and pebbles over the helpless forms of the three who lay batteredand stunned. 

An instant that was like an age; then the scientist pointed with aweak and trembling hand where a towering spire of metallic gray leanedslowly in the air. So slowly it moved, to the eyes of the watchers--agreat arc of gathering force and speed that shattered the ground whereit struck. 

"The gun!" was all that the still-dazed lieutenant could say. "The--the gun!" And he fell to shivering uncontrollably, while tearsof pure happiness streamed down his face. 

The mammoth siege gun--the only weapon for bombardment of the helplessEarth--was a mass of useless metal, a futile thing that lay twistedand battered on the sands of the sea. 

 * * * * *

The submarine now showed at a distance; it had withdrawn, byprearrangement, to the shelter of the deeper water. McGuire lookedcarefully at the watch on his wrist, and listened to make certain thatthe explosion had not stopped it. Sykes had told him the length of theVenusian day--twenty hours and nineteen minutes of Earth time, and hehad made his calculations from the day of the Venusians. And, morningand night, McGuire had set his watch back and had learned to make arough approximation of the time of that world. 

The watch now said five-thirteen, and the sun was almost gone; a lineof gold in the western sky; and McGuire knew that it was a matter onlyof minutes till the blast of the big gun would rock the island. Oneheavy section of the great barrel was resting upon the shattered base, and McGuire realized that this blocking of the monster's throat mustmean it would tear itself and the island around it to fragments whenit fired. He ran toward the beach and waved his arms wildly in air tourge on the speeding craft that showed dim and vague across theheaving sea. 

It drove swiftly toward them and stopped for the launching of thelittle boat. There was a delay, and McGuire stood quivering withimpatience where the others, too, watched the huddle of figures on thesubmarine's deck. 

It was Althora who first sensed their danger. Her voice was shrillwith terror as she seized McGuire's arm and pointed landward. 

"Tommy--Tommy!" she said. "They are coming! I saw them!"

 * * * * *

A swarming of red figures over the nearby dunes gave quickconfirmation of her words. McGuire looked about him for aweapon--anything to add efficiency to his bare hands--and the swarmwas upon them as he looked. 

He leaped quickly between Althora and the nearest figures thatstretched out grasping hands, and a red face went white under thesmashing impact of the flyer's fist. 

They poured over the sand-hills now---scores of leapingman-shapes--and McGuire knew in an instant of self-accusation thatthere had been a shelter after all, where a portion of the enemy forcehad stayed. The explosion had brought them, and now--

He struck in a raging frenzy at the grotesque things that came racingupon them. He knew Sykes was fighting too. He tore wildly at the leanarms that bound him and kept him from those a step or two away whowere throwing the figure of a girl across the shoulders of one oftheir men, while her eyes turned hopelessly toward McGuire. 

They threw the two men upon the sand and crowded to kneel on theprostrate bodies and strike and tear with their long hands, then tiedthem at ankles and wrists with metal cords, and raised them helplessand bound in the air. 

One of the red creatures pointed a long arm toward the demolished gunand shrieked something in a terror-filled tone. The others, at thesound, raced off through the sand, while those with the burden of thethree captives followed as best they could. 

"The gun!" said Professor Sykes in a thick voice: the words werejolted out of him as the two who carried him staggered and ran. "Theyknow--that it--hasn't--gone off--"

 * * * * *

The straggling troop that strung out across the dim-lit dunes wasapproaching another domed shelter of heavy concrete. They crowdedinside, and the bodies of the three were thrown roughly to the floor, while the red creatures made desperate haste to close the heavy door. Then down they went into the deeper safety of a subterranean room, where the massive walls about them quivered to a nerve-deadening jar. It shook those standing to the floor, and the silence that followedwas changed to a bedlam by the inhuman shrieking of the creatures whowere gloating over their safety and the capture they had achieved. They leaped and capered in a maniacal outburst and ceased only at theshrill order of one who was in command. 

At his direction the three were carried out of doors and thrown uponthe ground. McGuire turned his head to see the face of Althora. Therewas blood trickling from a cut on her temple, and her eyes were dazedand blurred, but she managed a trembling smile for the anxious eyes ofthe man who could only struggle hopelessly against the thin wires thatheld him. 

Althora hurt! Bound with those cutting metal cords! Althora--in suchbeastly hands! He groaned aloud at the thought. 

"You should never have come; I should never have let you. I have gotyou into this!" He groaned again in an agony of self-reproach, thenlay silent and waited for what must come. And the answer to hisspeculations came from the night above, where the lights of a shipmarked the approach of an enemy craft. 

 * * * * *

The ships of the red race could travel fast, as McGuire knew, but theair monster whose shining, pointed beak hung above them where they layhelpless in the torturing bonds of fine wire, was to give him a newconception of speed. 

It shot to the five thousand-foot level, when the captives were safeaboard, and the dark air shrieked like a tortured animal where thesteel shell tore it to tatters. And the radio, in an adjoining room, never ceased in its sputtering, changing song. 

The destruction of the Earth-bombarding gun! The capture of the twoEarth-men who had dared to fight back! And a captive woman of thedreaded race of true Venusians! There was excitement and news enoughfor one world. And the discordant singing of the radio was sounding inthe ears of the leaders of that world. 

They were waiting on the platform in the great hall where Sykes andMcGuire had stood, and their basilisk eyes glared unwinkingly down atthe three who were thrown at their feet. 

The leader of them all, Torg himself, arose from his ornate throne andstrode forward for a closer view of the trophies his huntsmen hadbrought in. A whistled word from him and the wires that had boundAlthora's slim ankles were cut, while a red-robed warrior dragged herroughly to her feet to stand trembling and swaying as the blood shotcruelly through her cramped limbs. 

Torg's eyes to McGuire were those of a devil feasting on human flesh, as he stared appraisingly and gloatingly at the girl who tried vainlyto return the look without flinching. He spoke for a moment in a harshtone, and the seated councilors echoed his weird notes approvingly. 

"What does he say?" McGuire implored, though he knew there could benothing of good in that abominable voice. "What does he say, Althora?"

 * * * * *

The face that turned slowly to him was drained of the last vestige ofcolor. "I--do not--know, " she said in a whisper scarcely audible; "buthe thinks--terrible things!"

She seemed speaking of some nightmare vision as she added haltingly, "There is a fleet of many ships, and Torg is in command. He hasthousands of men, and he goes forth to conquer your Earth. He goesthere to rule. " She had to struggle to bring the words to her lipsnow. "And--he takes me--with--him!"

"No--no!" the flyer protested, and he struggled insanely to free hishands from the wires that cut the deeper into his flesh. The voice ofAlthora, clear and strong now, brought him back. 

"I shall never go, Tommy; never! The gift of eternal life is mine, butit is mine to keep only if I will. But, for you and your friend--" Shetried to raise her hands to her trembling lips. 

"Yes, " said Lieutenant McGuire quietly, "for us--?"

But there were some things the soft lips of Althora refused to say. Again she tried vainly to raise her hands, then turned her white, stricken face that a loved one might not see the tears that weremingling with the blood-stains on her cheeks, nor read in her eyes thehorror they beheld. 

But she found one crumb of comfort for the two doomed men. 

"You will live till the sailing of the ships, Tommy, " she choked, "andthen--we will go together, Tommy--you and I. "

Her head was bowed and her shoulders shaking, but she raised her headproudly erect as she was seized by a guard whose blood-red handsforced her from the room. 

And the dry, straining eyes of Lieutenant McGuire, that watched hergoing, saw the passing to an unknown fate of all he held dear, and theend of his unspoken dreams. 

He scarcely felt the grip of the hands that seized him, nor knew whenhe and Sykes were carried from the room where Torg, the Emperor, heldhis savage court. The stone walls of the room where they were throwncould not hold his eyes; they looked through and beyond to see onlythe white and piteous face of a girl whose lips were whispering: "Wewill go together, Tommy--you and I. "

(_Concluded in the next issue_)

MYSTERIOUS CARLSBAD CAVERN

The largest cavern ever discovered, at Carlsbad Cavern, N. M. , is soongoing to be explored. 

Carlsbad Cavern is so large that that three sky-scrapers a half-mileapart could be built in the largest of its innumerable "rooms, "according to Mr. Nicholson, who was there once before, about a yearago. Only 22 miles of the cavern's apparently limitless tunnels havebeen explored, revealing such natural beauties that President Coolidgeestablished it as a national monument. 

The stalagmites in the cavern tower 100 feet high. The age of thecavern was put at 60, 000, 000 years by Dr. Willis T. Lee of theNational Geographic Society, after his survey three years ago. 

The caverns were discovered fifteen years ago by a New Mexican cowboynamed Jim White, according to Mr. Nicholson. White was riding across adesert waste one day when he saw what appeared to be smoke from avolcano. After riding three hours in the direction of the smoke hediscovered that it was an enormous cloud of bats issuing from themouth of a gigantic cavern. He decided the cavern deservedexploration, and a few years later he and a Mexican boy were loweredin a barrel over the 750-foot cliff which overhangs the cavern. 

The stalagmites of the cavern, according to Mr. Nicholson, are veryvibrant and resonant. One can play a "xylophone solo" on them withpractice, he said, but it is dangerous, since a certain pitch wouldcrack them. 

The temperature of the cavern is 56 degrees Fahrenheit, never varies, day and night, winter and summer. The air is purified everytwenty-four hours in some mysterious fashion, though there are no aircurrents. This is explained by the theory that there exists a greatsubterranean stream at a lower level, probably 1, 200 feet down. 

Specimens of stalagmites will be collected and reconstructed for theAmerican Museum of Natural History. The explorers expect to find alsoflying fish, flying salamanders, rare insects and thousands of bats. AGovernment representative will go along, and drawings and motionpictures will be made. 

_The Readers' Corner_

_A Meeting Place for Readers of ASTOUNDING STORIES_

_A Letter and Comment_

Three or four times in the year we have been issuing AstoundingStories the Editor has received letters calling attention to fanciedscientific errors in our stories. All these letters were published, but until now we have not cut in on the space of "The Readers' Corner"to answer such objections because they were very obviously the resultof hasty or inaccurate readings. 

The other week one more such letter reached us--from Mr. Philip Waite, this time--claiming that there was "an atrocious flaw" in two storiesof Captain S. P. Meek's. This we could not let go unanswered, firstbecause of the strong terms used, and second because the objectionwould sound to many like a true criticism; so we turned the letterover to Captain Meek, and his answer follows Mr. Waite's letter below. 

We welcome criticism of stories in our "The Readers' Corner. " Neveryet have we withheld from it any criticism or brickbats ofimportance--and we never intend to. But space is limited; there's notroom now for all the good letters that come in; and we do not want tointrude too much with editorial comment. Therefore when we do not stopand answer all criticisms we are not necessarily admitting they arevalid. In most cases everyone will quickly see their lack of logic oraccuracy, and in the rest we will ask you to remember that our Staffis meticulously careful about the scientific facts and laws andpossibilities that enter our stories, so it's extremely unlikely thatanything very "atrocious" will get by. 

Well, we'd better cut short now, before we take up too much "Corner"room. But first, thanks to Captain Meek for going to the trouble ofdefending two stories that needed no defense. And thanks, too, to Mr. Waite, for his kindness in writing in to inform us of what hethought--unquestionably because of hasty reading--were errors. --_TheEditor. _

P. S. (Now we'll have to be _super_ careful of our science, for if Mr. Waite ever gets anything on us--!!)

Dear Editor:

Just a note to tell you to keep up the good work. There was anatrocious flaw, however, in the two stories by Capt. S. P. Meek aboutthe Heaviside Layer. How, may I ask, do meteors penetrate through thatimaginary substance which is too much for a powerful space flyer?Also, how about refraction? A substance denser than air would producerefraction that would have been noticed long ago. I don't mind minorerrors, but an author has no right to ignore the facts sooutrageously. Fiction goes too far when an author can invent suchfalse conditions. 

In the latest issue "Stolen Brains" was fine, up to the Dr. Birdstandard. "The Invisible Death" was good enough, but too much like thegeneral run to be noteworthy. "Prisoners on the Electron"--couldn'tstomach it. Too hackneyed. "Jetta of the Lowlands, " by Ray Cummings;nuff said. "An Extra Man"--original idea and perfectly written. One ofthe reasons I hang on to Science Fiction. A perfect gem. --PhilipWaite, 3400 Wayne Ave. , New York, N. Y. 

Dear Editor:

May I use enough space in your discussion columns to reply briefly tothe objections raised to the science in my two stories, "Beyond theHeaviside Layer" and "The Attack from Space"? Understand that I am notarguing that there actually is a thick wall of semi-plastic materialsurrounding the earth through which a space flyer could not pass. If Idid, I would automatically bar myself from writing interplanetarystories, a thing that is far from my desires. I do wish to point out, however, that such a layer might exist, so far as we at present know. The objections to which I wish to reply are two: first, "How dometeors pass through that imaginary substance which is too much for apowerful space flyer?" and second, "How about refraction?"

To reply to the first we must consider two things, kinetic energy andresistance to the passage of a body. The kinetic energy of a movingbody is represented by the formula 1/2 mv^2 where m is the mass of thebody and v the velocity. The resistance of a substance to penetrationof a body is expressed by the formula A f_c where A is the area of thebody in contact with the resisting medium and f_c is the coefficientof sliding friction between the penetrating body and the resistingmedium. Consider first the space flyer. To hold personnel the flyermust be hollow. In other words, m must be small as compared to A. Ameteor, on the other hand, is solid and dense with a relatively largem and small A. Given a meteor and a space flyer of the same weight, the volume of the meteor would be much smaller, and as the area incontact with the resisting medium is a function of volume, the totalresistance to be overcome by the space flyer would be much greaterthan that to be overcome by the meteor. Again, consider the relativevelocities of a meteor and a space flyer coming from the earth towardthe heaviside layer. The meteor from space would have an enormousvelocity, so great that if it got into even very rare air, it wouldbecome incandescent. As it must go through dense air, the space flyercould attain only a relatively low velocity before it reached thelayer. Remember that the velocity is squared. A one thousand poundmeteor flying with a velocity 100 times that of the space ship wouldhave 100^2 or 10, 000 times the kinetic energy of the space ship whileit would also have less friction to overcome due to its smaller size. 

If my critic wishes to test this out for himself, I can suggest a verysimple experiment. Take a plank of sound pine wood, two inches thickby twelve inches wide and four feet long. Support it on both ends andthen pile lead slabs onto it, covering the whole area of the board. Ifthe wood be sound the board will support a thousand pounds readily. Now remove the lead slabs and fire a 200 grain lead bullet at theboard with a muzzle or initial velocity of 1, 600 feet per second. Thebullet will penetrate the board very readily. Consider the heavisidelayer as the board, the space ship as the lead slabs and the bullet asthe meteor and you have the answer. 

Consider one more thing. According to the stories, the layer grewthicker and harder to penetrate as the flyer reached the outersurface. The meteor would strike the most viscous part of the layerwith its maximum energy. As its velocity dropped and its kineticenergy grew less, it would meet material easier to penetrate. On theother hand the flyer, coming from the earth, would meet material easyto penetrate and gradually lose its velocity and consequently itskinetic energy. When it reached the very viscous portion of the layer, it would have almost no energy left with which to force its waythrough. Remember, the Mercurians made no attempt to penetrate thelayer until a portion of it had been destroyed by Carpenter's genius. 

As for the matter of refraction. If you will place a glass cube orother form in the air, you will have no difficulty in measuring therefraction of the light passing through it. If, however, the observerwould place himself inside a hollow sphere of glass so perfectlytransparent as to be invisible, would not the refraction he wouldobserve be taken by him to be the refraction of air when in reality itwould be the combined refraction of the glass sphere and the airaround him?

I have taken glass as the medium to illustrate this because my criticmade the statement that "a substance denser than air would producerefraction that would have been noticed long ago. " However nowhere ineither story is the statement made that the material of the heavisidelayer was denser than air. The statement was that it was more viscous. Viscosity is not necessarily a function of density. A heavy oil suchas you use in the winter to lubricate your automobile has a muchhigher viscosity than water, yet it will float on water, i. E. It isless dense. There is nothing in the story that would prevent theheaviside layer from having a coefficient of refraction identical withthat of air. 

To close, let me repeat that I am not arguing that such a layerexists. I do not believe that it does and I do believe that mygeneration will probably see the first interplanetary expedition startand possibly see the first interplanetary trip succeed. I do, however, contend that the science in my stories is accurate until it transcendsthe boundaries of present day knowledge and ceases to be science andbecomes "super-science, " and that my super-science is developed in alogical manner from science and that nothing in present knowledgemakes the existence of such a layer impossible--S. P. Meek. Capt. Ord. Dept. , U. S. A. 

_Likes Long Novelettes_

Dear Editor:

I have just finished reading the August issue of your magazine. I amgoing to rate the different stories in per cents. 100% meansexcellent; 75% fairly good; 50% passable; 25% just an ordinary story. 

I give "Marooned Under The Sea, " by Paul Ernst, 100%; 75% for "TheAttack From Space, " by Captain S. P. Meek. "The Problem inCommunication, " by Miles J. Breuer, M. D. And "Jetta of the Lowlands, "by Ray Cummings; 50% for "The Murder Machine, " by Hugh B. Cave and"Earth, The Marauder, " by Arthur J. Burks; 25% for "The TerribleTentacles of L-472, " by Sewell Peaslee Wright. 

I am happy to say that since I have been reading your magazine, I haveinduced at least ten of my friends to be constant readers of thismagazine. 

I like the long novelettes much better than continued novels, and hopethat in the future we will get bigger and better novelettes. --LeonardEstrin, 1145 Morrison Ave. , Bronx, N. Y. 

_Hasn't Decided_

Dear Editor:

Move over, you old-timers, and let a newcomer say something. 

A few months ago I didn't read any Science Fiction. Now I read it all. I haven't decided yet which magazine I like best. 

I was a little disappointed when you didn't have another story in theSeptember copy by R. P. Starzl, who wrote "Planet of Dread. " I thoughtyou would hold on to a good author when you find one. 

I would also like another story by the fellow who wrote the serial"Murder Madness. "

I like short stories best. 

That idea of a mechanical nirvana in Miles J. Breuer's story was good. 

"Jetta of the Lowlands?" Opinion reserved. I like the action of thestory, but I hate a hero who is always bragging about himself. 

Don't think I'm complaining, but nothing is perfect. 

Why not try to get a story of A. Merritt's, or Ralph MilneFarley's?--A. Dougherty, 327 North Prairie Ave. , Sioux Falls, So. Dak. 

_Announcement_

Dear Editor:

May I enter "The Readers' Corner" to announce that a branch of TheScienceers has recently been formed in Clearwater, Florida, by a groupof Science Fiction enthusiasts?

We have a library of 175 Science Fiction magazines, including acomplete file of Astounding Stories to date. We hold weekly meetingsat which scientific topics are discussed, and current Science Fictionstories commented upon. 

As the first branch of The Scienceers, we are striving to achieve asuccess that will be a mark for other branches to aim at. --CarltonAbernathy, P. O. Box 584, Clearwater, Fla. 

_From Merrie England_

Dear Editor:

I came across your May publication of Astounding Stories the otherday, and I cannot resist writing to you to congratulate you on themost interesting magazine I have ever read. I am now determined totake it every month. Re "The Atom Smasher, " it is A-1. I have readseveral interplanetary stories over here but none to touch those ofyour magazine. 

Best wishes for the success of your book and its authors. --J. C. Atkinson, 17 Balaclava Rd. , Sheffield, England. 

_Starting Young_

Dear Editor:

You'll excuse my writing, for it is the end of vacation. 

I like your book very much, which many other readers approve of. Somedislikes, of course, everyone has, and I have three which many readershave, too. First, I wish the magazine were bigger and the paperbetter. Second, have more stories and raise the price to 25c. Third, have stories of the future such as "Earth, the Marauder, " and storiesof lost Atlantis, the fourth dimension, other planets, atoms andelectrons. --Jack Farber, Payette, Idaho. 

P. S. I am 11 years old and interested in science. 

_Doesn't Like Serials_

Dear Editor:

I am a recent reader of the Astounding Stories magazine. I am going tokeep getting the magazine, as I like it very much. 

I did not like "Murder Madness, " or Burks' "Earth, the Marauder" verymuch. I do not think "Murder Madness" is the type of story thatbelongs in this magazine. I do not like continued stories very much asI hate to break off at an interesting point and wait a whole monthbefore I can read the next installment or conclusion of the story. Thefront piece of the magazine is very good, and except for thecriticisms mentioned above the magazine is excellent. --Kempt Mitchell. 

_A Staunch Defender_

Dear Editor:

At one time a friend introduced your excellent little publication tome. I read it and enjoyed every paragraph of it. This issue starred"The Monsters of Moyen, " which I consider a real super-science story. I have followed "The Readers' Corner" quite a time. 

In the September issue I saw where someone made a commentary on themagazine. One of the things they said was that the paper should be ofa better grade. It is true that this would help, but "our" magazine isnot half full of advertisements to pay for this expense. Dear friends, this is no Saturday Evening Post. Don't ask too much. Then, you maytake in consideration that other magazines of Science Fiction have nobetter grade of paper than this, for I have purchased several. 

I have but one thing to say as an improvement for it. That is, whyshouldn't there be a Quarterly? Other Science Fiction magazines havethem. They have complete stories and are double in size and price. Dear Editor, please, for the public's sake, put out a Quarterly. I'msure others would like one. --H. C. Kaufman, Jr. , 1730 N. Monroe St. , Baltimore, Maryland. 

_Announcement_

Dear Editor:

We would appreciate it very much if you would print this in your"Readers' Corner" department. 

We wish to inform the readers of Astounding Stories of an organizationlately formed, called The Boys' Scientifiction Club. Its purpose is topromote scientific interest among boys between the ages of 10 and 15, to encourage the reading of Science Fiction and scientific works, andto create a bond of friendship among them. 

A circulating library, composed of Science Fiction books, magazines, articles, etc. , is being constructed to circulate among members whodesire to read any of the contents. 

Officers are: President-Librarian, Forrest J. Ackerman, 530 StaplesAve. , San Francisco, Cal. ; Secretary-Treasurer, Frank Sipos, 174Staples Ave. , San Francisco, California. 

Address all letters concerning membership to the President. He will beglad to answer all letters and explain particulars of the club. Thankyou for your kindness. --Linus Hogenmiller, Vice-President B. S. C. , 502 N. Washington St. , Farmington, Missouri. 

_But--Ray Cummings Writes Us Only Brand New Stories!_

Dear Editor:

I want to commend Astounding Stories on carrying out an idea which Ihave had in mind for some time; that is, some scientific articles. "AStar That Breathes, " in the July number, was very interesting, as werethe two articles in the August copy. However, I hope that this is onlythe start of a valuable new addition to Astounding Stories. Thereshould be at least five or six in each magazine, and I think most ofthe readers would prefer them at the end of the stories instead of inthe back of the magazine. Another thing that is absolutely essentialif Astounding Stories would hold its own as a high-class ScienceFiction magazine is a scientific editorial in the front of the book. The way it starts off abruptly onto a story gives the impression of acheap publication. 

A lot of your readers have been setting up a clamor for stories by RayCummings. While it is true that he has written a few good stories, youwill find that his antiquated stuff is not being printed in any of theother Science Fiction magazine, but only in ones devoted toadventure-stories. For the sake of your many readers who would like tosee "our magazine" keep abreast of the times, Cummings should bedropped and some of the peerless authors of to-day employed. As anadvance along this line you already have Capt. S. P. Meek, HarlVincent, Lilith Lorraine, Edmond Hamilton, and, in the latest copy, R. F. Starzl. "The Planet of Dread, " by R. F. Starzl was the best storyin the August issue. A wealth of ideas was contained in that treatiseof life on a young, warm planet, and the idea of fooling the liquidintelligence by thought-suggestion is quite novel but entirelyreasonable. Mr. Starzl is an author of the highest type and ability, and you will do well to secure more stories from his typewriter. 

I was glad to see that the cover has finally been changed from theconventional blue background, and I hope we will have a littlevariation from now on. Concerning illustrations, Wesso is a greatartist, and aside from a few scientific errors his covers areexcellent. The inside drawings could be improved, however. 

I hope for your continued success--Wayne D. Bray, Campbell, Mo. 

_Are We All "Morons?"_

Dear Editor:

Having perused three issues of your magazine, I must agree that itstitle is well chosen. The stories are nearly all "astounding";astounding in that they utterly ignore every scientific fact anddiscovery of the past ten centuries. 

The cold of inter-stellar space; its lack of oxygen; theinterplanetary effects of gravitation--all are passed over as ifnon-existent. 

An "anti-gravity ovoid"--of which no description is given--if worn ina man's hat, makes his whole body weightless. 

Men, buildings and cities float through the air or become invisible, yet not the least semi-scientific explanation is made as to the how ofit all. 

In other words, the pattern of your stories appears to have been takenfrom the Arabian Nights and from Grimm's Fairy Tales--but with not amillionth part of the interest. 

How anyone, save a young child or a moron, can read and enjoy suchfutile nonsense is incredible. 

If your writers would (like Jules Verne) only invent somepseudo-scientific explanation for their marvels, your publicationmight then be read with pleasure--but why do so when trash isacceptable without thought behind it!--M. Clifford Johnston, 451Central Avenue, Newark, N. J. 

_A Wesso Fan_

Dear Editor:

Let me congratulate you on the September issue of Astounding Stories. It is the best issue you have published yet. I noticed in this issuethat you had four illustrations by Wesso. Though that is the most youhave ever had, I think it would be much better if all theillustrations were by him. 

However, getting down to brass tacks, the reason I'm typing thisletter is to ask you to publish an Astounding Stories Quarterly. Youcould have it contain twice as much reading material as in the monthlyand charge forty cents a copy for it. It would be much better than asemi-monthly and I am quite sure it would "go over" big. --Thomas L. Kratzer, 3593 Tullamore Rd. , University Heights, Ohio. 

_Bang--Bang--Bang_

Dear Editor:

I have read the August Astounding Stories and greatly enjoyed thefiction, but "The Readers' Corner" gave me a good deal of amusement. Some of your readers take their fiction so seriously!

Take the "Brick or Two" from George L. Williams and Harry Heillisan, for instance. They want Astounding Stories filled with material fromauthors that appear in other magazines--because your readers "are usedto the standards set by those publications, " etc. And again, "youshould have some one who is well qualified to pass upon the science inthe stories. " For the love of Pete, if people want scientifictreatises, why don't they buy books and magazines dealing with thesubject? There are many on the market--serious and dull enough foranyone. But for our fiction magazines, let's have it pure andunadulterated, the more improbably the better. 

What possible difference does it make if, in a story, the moon has acrater every ten feet, or the black sky of outer space were blazingwith moons and aurora borealises, or the sun were in a double eclipse!

We read stories to be amused, not for technical information, so wecertainly don't want "a scientific editorial in each issue by some'eminent scientist. '"

As for a department in which readers could write their opinions of thestories and suggest improvements in the conduct of the magazine, whatelse is "The Readers' Corner?"

Why not adopt a tolerant attitude, and instead of howling about pettyfaults and mistakes get a good laugh over them? As for telling writersand editors "how to do it, " we would only expose our ignorance andinability and make ourselves ridiculous. 

If we think we could do so much better, let's try it. Write a storyourselves or start running a magazine!

Astounding Stories is all right as is. We like it "different. " We wantdifferent authors from those of other magazines. What is the use ofhaving various publications if they must all be conducted alongidentical lines?

Now for your writers: Mr. R. F. Starzl is easily the best. His story, "The Planet of Dread, " is full of thrills and imagination and cleversituations that are well developed and surmounted. One thing that israther remarkable in this class of story, the hero gets himself andhis companion out of every difficulty by his own ingenuity. The storymoves along with interest and thrills in every paragraph, and isreally my ideal of a "super-scientific" yarn; i. E. , not stuffed withtiresome technical data. Let's have more from this interestingauthor. --C. E. Bush, Decatur, Ark. 

_Assorted Bouquets_

Dear Editor:

Before commenting upon the September issue of your wonderful magazine, I would like to personally thank Mr. Bates for the kind reply to myformer letter. It shows that at least one editor glanced over myliterary ramblings. 

Now for comments on the September issue. I placed the stories in thefollowing order, which is based upon their merit:

"Marooned Under the Sea"; "Terrible Tentacles of L-472"; "Jetta of theLowlands"; "The Attack from Space"; "A Problem in Communication";"Earth the Marauder, " and "The Murder Machine. "

Your serials are the best I have ever read in any magazine; yourlatest one, "Jetta of the Lowlands, " promises to be an A-1top-notcher. 

Your artists, H. W. Wessolowski and J. Fleming Gould, draw the finestillustrations I have ever seen anywhere. 

"The Readers' Corner" is a fine corner which can only be improved bymaking it larger. 

The stories scheduled for the October issue look good to me. Am gladto see that Dr. Bird is returning. Will sign off now wishingAstounding Stories all the luck it deserves. --Edwin Anderson, 1765Southern Boulevard, Bronx, N. Y. C. , N. Y. 

_A Request_

Dear Editor:

I thought I would drop you just a line to comment on the authors nowwriting for "our" magazine. 

Among the best are: R. F. Starzl, Edmond Hamilton, Harl Vincent, RayCummings and Captain S. P. Meek. However, there is one brilliantauthor whose fascinating stories have, to date, failed to appear inour magazine. The man I am referring to is Ed Earl Repp. Please have astory by him in our magazine as soon as possible. 

I am sure other readers will agree with me when I say that Mr. Reppwrites exceedingly thrilling and exciting Science Fiction tales. Let'ssee many stories by him in the forthcoming issues of AstoundingStories. --Forrest J. Ackerman, 530 Staples Avenue, San Francisco, California. 

_Thank You, Mr. Lorenzo_

Dear Editor:

Several Science Fiction magazines will have to struggle along withoutmy patronage. Why? Because they flew (literally speaking) over my headwith all kinds of science. I want some science, but mostly fiction. Icouldn't understand what they were writing about, so I lost interest. I can read a single copy of a good magazine from cover to cover in oneday, but let me lose interest in it by having too much dry matter andI just don't buy that book again. 

Your magazine is the best of all Science Fiction magazines, whichmeans that I can read and understand the tales in Astounding Stories. So you get my trade. You're trying your best to supply me withinteresting stories so if there is an occasional dry story (to me), Ijust remember one thing: you, as Editor, are a human being likemyself; so, neither one of us being perfect, I just forgive and go onbuying. --Jas Lorenzo, 644 Hanover St. , San Francisco, Cal. 

_Suggestions_

Dear Editor:

"Earth, the Marauder, " by Arthur J. Burks, gets four stars. It is oneof the most astounding stories I have ever read. I hope you have morestories by Arthur J. Burks on schedule for early issues. "Jetta of theLowlands, " by Ray Cummings, "Marooned Under the Sea, " by Paul Ernst (asequel soon, I hope). "The Terrible Tentacles of L-472, " by S. P. Wright and "The Attack from Space, " by S. P. Meek (let's have anothersequel), all get three stars. I hope that S. P. Wright will write morestories of strange planets. 

I think that your serials should all be book-length novels with theinstallments from thirty-five to fifty pages in length. Don't publishnovelettes (thirty to sixty-five pages) as serials. 

In your August issue you mention that you may some day publishAstounding Stories twice a month. I would rather have you increase theprice to twenty-five cents, give us as much material as Five NovelsMonthly, and smooth cut edges. 

Wesso's cover illustrations are improving each month. I am glad to seemore of his illustrations inside. 

Since so many readers ask for reprints, why not give us an occasionalone?--Jack Darrow, 4225 N. Spaulding Ave. , Chicago, Illinois. 

"_A Flop_"

Dear Editor:

I have read Astounding Stories since its first issue, and I amconvinced that it is without a peer in the field of Science Fiction. This preeminence is due to the fact that the magazine regularlycontains the work of the best contemporary writers of scientificfantasy, such as Cummings, Rousseau, Leinster, Burks and Hamilton. 

Certain readers, unaccustomed to such rich fare, ask for stories bylesser lights. For a time these requests went unheeded; but of late itseems they are getting results--more's the pity. 

Your September issue contained a story called "A Problem inCommunication" by Miles J. Breuer, M. D. Now, the good doctor may be a"wow" in other magazines, but his stuff is not up to the standard ofAstounding Stories. His initial effort in this magazine was dull anduninspired. It lacked the sustained interest and gripping action ofyour other stories. It was, to put it bluntly, a flop. 

In spite of this sad example, several readers are still clamoring formore stuff from the small-timers. If they get their way--which Allahforbid!--it will mean the downfall of Astounding Stories. Why ruin atruly great magazine by catering to a misguided minority?--George K. Addison, 94 Brandt Place, Bronx, New York. 

"_No Favorites_"

Dear Editor:

I found your magazine on the newsstand while looking for another kind. The cover picture looked interesting so I bought Astounding Storiesinstead of the other. Since that moment I have been a steady reader. 

I can see no way to improve your magazine unless it is to enlarge itor to publish it oftener. I am satisfied with it as it is. It is thebest magazine on the newsstands now. 

I have no favorites among your stories as I like them all equallywell. --Robert L. King, Melbourne, Florida. 

_Pride of the Regiment_

Dear Editor:

I have just finished reading the September issue of Astounding Storiesand want to congratulate you on your staff of writers. Although thisis the first copy I have read, I can assure you that it will not bethe last, by any means. 

I think the story called "Marooned Under the Sea, " by Paul Ernst, astory that no one could have passed without reading it. The way theauthor explains the story to have come to life has really got meguessing. 

The only thing that I regretted was that I didn't get the copiesprevious to the story called, "Earth, the Marauder, " by Arthur J. Burks. Please give us more stories by Paul Ernst. (I say us because Iam a soldier, and where you find one soldier you find plentysoldiers. )

So keep the good work up, as we are looking forward to a good timewhen the next issues come around. --Co. "I, " 26th Inf. PlattsburghBarracks, Plattsburgh, New York. 

_Covers Not Too Vivid_

Dear Editor:

I can't help joining the great number of admirers of your wonderfulmagazine. 

A great many readers ask for interplanetary stories. As for me, I likeany kind, stories of other worlds, under the earth, under the sea, onother planets, dimensional stories, anything. So far I have not hadthe slightest excuse to complain. 

When I finish reading a story I write after the title, "good, " "verygood, " "fair, " etc. Then I read the best ones over again while waitingfor the next issue. The following two and the only stories I didn'tlike so far are: "The Stolen Mind" and "Creatures of the Light. "

One critic stated that he considered the illustrations of AstoundingStories too vivid. Illustrations for stories such as are contained inthis magazine cannot be too vivid. Readers have plenty of opportunityto use their imaginations. Many scenes which the authors try toportray are hard to visualize, and I think that a number of goodillustrations would help the readers enjoy the stories more. 

As long as you keep your magazine up to the standard you have set thusfar, I will remain an eager reader. --Sam Castellina, 104 E. RailroadSt. Pittston, Penn. 

_Quite True_

Dear Editor:

I have enjoyed every one of your Astounding Stories magazines from thefirst. 

However, in the story, "The Murder Machine, " by Hugh B. Cave, a man, Sir John Harman, was made to kill a man by meccano-telepathicallyprojected hypnotic suggestions. Some people think it is entirelypossible to make a man do such a thing by hypnotism, but it is notpossible because no person under hypnotic influence will do anythingthat his subconscious mind knows is immoral. Neither a thief nor amurderer can be made to confess their crime while under hypnoticinfluence. 

I am merely writing this so that the others who have read the storywill not get the wrong idea of hypnotism. A man under hypnoticinfluence can be made to think he is murdering or robbing, but he willnot do it really, no matter how hard the hypnotist tries to makehim. --Henry Booth, 916 Federal St. , N. S. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. 

"_Paper Correct Kind_"

Dear Editor:

I am a reader of four other Science Fiction magazines but likeAstounding Stories the best for two main reasons. First, the size isjust right, second, the paper is the correct kind. It does not glareat you when you read. 

I have every issue of Astounding Stories since it came out. Thestories are all good and are becoming better each month. I preferstories of space traveling and of the fourth dimension. 

About reprints, I think that if you want to give reprints, why notpublish them in booklet form. I'm sure many of the readers will preferto have reprints that way. --Frank Wogavoda, Water Mill, New York. 

_Bouquets_

Dear Editor:

"The Planet of Dread" was a classic in the full meaning of the word. Not only was the story a masterpiece of fantastic adventure but alsoof short story craft. By all means secure more of Mr. Starzl's finetales. 

Your stories by Ray Cummings are great. It would be a good policy uponyour part to continue to present stories of his at the most not morethan two issues apart. 

Continue up to your present standard and you'll continue to standabove all other Science Fiction magazines where stories ofsuper-science are concerned, now and forever. --Jerome Siegel, 10622Kimberley Ave. , Cleveland, Ohio. 

"_The Readers' Corner_"

All Readers are extended a sincere and cordial invitation to "comeover in 'The Readers' Corner'" and join in our monthly discussion ofstories, authors, scientific principles and possibilities--everythingthat's of common interest in connection with our Astounding Stories. 

Although from time to time the Editor may make a comment or so, thisis a department primarily for _Readers_, and we want you to make fulluse of it. Likes, dislikes, criticisms, explanations, roses, brickbats, suggestions--everything's welcome here; so "come over in'The Readers' Corner'" and discuss it will all of us!

 --_The Editor. _

 ASTOUNDING STORIES _Appears on Newsstands_ THE FIRST THURSDAY IN EACH MONTH