Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S4 Ep182: Episode 182: Sci-Fi Horror Stories

Episode Date: August 30, 2024

If you want to take ownership of your health, try AG1 and get a FREE 1-year supply of Vitamin D AND 5 Free AG1 Travel Packs with your first purchase.  Go to www.drinkAG1.com/creepen Today’s podcast is a compilation of classic works by old-school sci-fi authors of the 1930s, all stories in the public domain read here for you all under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license.  Today’s video is another compilation of classic works by old-school sci-fi authors of the 1920s and 1930s; all stories in the public domain read here for you all under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license.  ‘The Gate to Xoran’, an old-school work by the wonderful Hal K. Wells, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license.  https://www.gutenberg.org/files/30177/30177-h/30177-h.htm#xoran   ‘The Destroyer’, an old-school work by the wonderful William Merriam Rouse, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license.  https://www.gutenberg.org/files/29919/29919-h/29919-h.htm#The_Destroyer  ‘The Earthman's Burden’, an old-school work by the wonderful R. F. Starzl, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license.  https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/31893/pg31893-images.html#The_Earthmans_Burden ‘The Terrible Tentacles of L-472’, an old-school work by the wonderful Sewell Peaslee Wright, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/29255/pg29255-images.html#p332  ‘The Black Lamp’, an old-school work by the wonderful Captain S. P. Meek, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license.  https://www.gutenberg.org/files/30124/30124-h/30124-h.htm#The_Black_Lamp  ‘The Most Dangerous Game’, a classic work first published by Richard Connell on January 19, 1924, and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license.  https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Most_Dangerous_Game 

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. We're captivated by sci-fi horror because it fuses the familiar with the unknown, stretching our fears into imaginative and disturbing territories. These stories offer a safe space to face our anxieties about technology, the future, and the vastness of the cosmos. The excitement lies in exploring what-if scenarios where scientific progress spirals into unforeseen horrors, prompting us to rethink our grasp on reality and the boundaries of human control. The blend of speculative science and primal fear tapped into our deep curiosity and fascination with the mysterious,

making sci-fi horror a genre that both challenges and enthralls us, as we'll see in tonight's collection of stories. As ever before we begin, a word of caution. Knight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. and let's begin the gate to Zora he sat in a small half-darkham booth

well over in the corner the man with a strangely glowing blue-green eyes the booth was one of a score that circled the walls of the Maori hut a popular nightclub in the San Fernando Valley some five miles over the hills from Hollywood it was nearly midnight half a dozen couples danced lazily in the central dancing space

other couples remained tete-a-tete in the secluded booths. In the entire room only two men were dining alone. One was a slender, grey-haired little man with a weirdly glowing eyes. The other was Blair Gordon, a highly successful young attorney of Los Angeles. Both men had the unmistakable air of waiting for someone. Blair Gordon's college days were not so far distant that he'd yet lost any of the splendid physique that made him an all-American tackle. In any physical combat with a slight grey-haired stranger,

Gordon knew that he should be able to break the other in two with one hand. Yet, as he studied the stranger from behind, the potted palms that screened his own move, Gordon was amazed to find himself slowly being overcome by an emotion of dread so intense that it verged upon sheer fear. There was something indescribably alien and utterly sinister in that dimly seen figure in the corner. a boon the faint eerie light that glowed in the stranger's deep-set eyes was not the lambent flame seen in the

chittoyant orbs of some night-prouling jungle beast rather it was the blue-green glow with phosphorescent witchlight that flickers and dances in the night mists above steaming tropical swamps the stranger's face was classically perfect in its rugged outline as that of a roman war god yet those perfect features seemed utterly lifeless. In the twenty minutes that he had been intently watching the stranger, Gordon could have sworn that the other's face had not moved by so much as the twist of an eyelash. Then a new couple entered the Maori hut, and Gordon promptly forgot all thought of the puzzlingly alien figure in the corner.

The new arrivals were a vibrantly beautiful blonde girl and a plump, sallow-faced man in the early forties. The girl was Leia Keith, Hollywood's latest screen sensation, and the man was Dave Redding, her director. A waiter seated Leia, and her escort in a booth directly across the room from that of Gordon. It was a manoeuvre for which Gordon had tipped lavishly when he first came to the Huns. A week ago, Leia Keith's engagement to Blair Gordon had been abruptly ended by a trivial little quarrel that two volatile temperaments had fanned into flames which apparently made reconciliation impossible.

A miserably lonely week had finally ended in Gordon's present trip to the Maori hut. He knew that Lear often came here, and he had an overwhelming longing to at least see her again, even though his pride forced him to remain unseen. Now, as he stared glumly at Lear through the palms that effectively screamed his own booth, Gordon heartily regretted that he'd ever come. The sight of Lea's clear, fresh beauty merely made him realize what a fool he'd been to let ridiculous little quarrel come between them. Then, with a sudden tingling thrill, Gordon realized that he was not the only one in the room who was interested in Lear and her escort. Over in the

half-darkened corner booth, the eerie stranger was staring at the girl with an intentness that made his weird eyes glow like miniature pools of shimmering blue-green fire. Again, Gordon felt that vague impression of dread, as though he were in the presence of something utterly alien to all human experience. Gordon turned his gaze back to Leia, then caught his breath sharply into sudden amazement. The necklace about Leia's throat was beginning to glow with the same uncanny blue-green light that shone in the stranger's eyes. Faint, yet unmistakable, the shimmering radiance pulsed from the necklace in an aura of nameless evil. And with the coming of that aura of weird light around her throat, a strange trance was swiftly sweeping over, Lear,

She sat there now as rigidly motionless as some exquisite statue of ivory and jets. Gordon stared at her in stark bewilderment. He knew the history of Leah's necklace. It was merely an oddity and nothing more, a freak piece of costume jewellery made from fragments of Arizona meteorites. Lea had worn the necklace a dozen times before without any trace of the weird phenomena that was now occurring. again thronged the floor to the blaring music while Gordon was still trying to force his whirling

brain into a decision. He was certain that Leo 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 own hands. He left his booth and began threading his way through the dancers toward Leia. As he watched the progress of that slight grey-haired figure, Gordon refused to believe the evidence of his own eyes. The thing was too utterly absurd, and yet Gordon was positive that the strong outfloor of the dancing space was visibly swaying and creaking beneath the stranger's mincing tread. The stranger paused at Lear's booth only long enough to utter a brief, low-voice command. Then Leia, still in the grip of that strange trance, rose obediently from

her seat to accompany him. Dave Redding rose angrily to intercept her. The stranger seemed to barely brush the IREC director with his fingertips, and yet Redding reel back so struck by a power-driver. Leah and the stranger started for the door. Redding scrambled to his feet again and hurried after them. It was only then that Gordon finally shook off the stupor of utter bewilderment that had held him. Springing from his booth, he rushed after the trio. The dancers in his way delayed Gordon momentarily. and the stranger were already gone when he reached the door.

The narrow little entrance hallway to the hut was deserted, save for a figure sprawled there on the floor near the outer door. It was the body of Dave Redding. Gordon shuddered as he glanced briefly down at the huddled figure. A single mighty blow from some unknown weapon had crumpled the director's entire face in by the shattered shell of a broken egg. Gordon charged on through the outer door

just as a heavy sedan came careening out of the parking lot He had a flashing glimpse of layer In the stranger in the front seat of that big car Gordon then raced for his own machine A powerful low-slung roadster A single vicious jab at the starting button And the big motor leaped into roaring life Gordon shot out from the parking lot

On to the main boulevard A hundred yards away the sedan was fleeing toward Hollywood Gordon tramped hard on the accelerator. His engine snarred with the unleashed fury of a hundred horsepower. The gap between the two cars was swiftly lessening. Then the strangers seemed to become aware for the first time that he was being followed. The next second, the big sedan accelerated with the hurtling speed of a flying bullet. Gordon sent his own foot nearly to the floor.

The rose to jump to 80 miles an hour, and yet the sedan came. continue to leave it remorselessly behind. Two cars started up the northern slope of Kauanga Pass, with the sedan nearly 200 yards ahead and gaining all the time. Gordon wondered briefly if they were to flash down the other side of the pass and on into Hollywood at their present mad speed. Then, at the summit of the pass, the sedan swerved abruptly to the right, and fled west along the on Holland Highway. Gordon's tire screamed as he swerved the roadster in hot pursuit. The dark winding mountain highway was nearly deserted at the hour of the night, save for an occasional automobile that swered frantically to the side of the road to dodge

the roaring onslaught of the racing cars. Gordon and the stranger had the road to themselves. The stranger seemed no longer to be trying to leave his pursuer hopelessly behind. He allowed Gordon to come within a hundred yards of him. But that was as near as Gordon could get, in spite of the road to his best efforts. Half a dozen times Gordon trod savagely upon his accelerator in a desperate attempt to close the gap, but each time the sedan fled with the swift grace of a scudding phantom. Finally Gordon had to content himself with merely keeping his distance behind the glowing red taillight of the car ahead. They passed Laurel Canyon, and still the big sedan bored on to the west.

Then, finally, half a dozen miles beyond Laurel Canyon, the stranger abruptly left the main highway and started up a narrow private road to the crest of one of the lonely hills. Gordon slowly gained in the next two miles. When the road ended in a winding gravel driveway into the grounds of what was apparently a private estate, the roaster was scarcely a dozen yards behind. The stranger's features as he stood there stiffly in the vivid glare of the rooster's headlights was still as devoid of all expression as ever. The only things that really seemed alive in that mask of a face were the two eyes, glowing eerie blue-green fire like twin entities of an alien evil. Gordon wasted no time in verbal sparring. He motioned briefly to layer Keith's rigid form in the front seat of the

sedan. Miss Keith is returning to Hollywood with me, he said curtly. Will he let her go peaceably, or shall I? He left that question unfinished, but its threat was obvious. Or you shall do what? Asked the stranger quietly. There was an oddly metallic

ring in his low even tones. His words were so precisely clipped that they suggested some origin more mechanical than human. Or I shall take Miss Keith with me by force. Gordon flared angrily. You can try to take the lady by force, if you wish.

There was an unmistakable jeering note in those metallic tones. The taunt was the last thing needed to unleash Gorton's volatile temper. He stepped forward and swung a hard left hook at that expressionless mask of the face. But the blow never landed. The stranger dodged it with uncanny swiftness. His answering gesture seemed merely the gentlest possible push with an outstretched hand, and yet Gordon was sent reeling backward a full dozen steps by the terrific force of that apparently gentle blow.

Recovering himself, Gordon grimly returned to the attack. A stranger again flung out one hand in the contemptuous gesture which one would brush away a troublesome fly. But this time Gordon was more cautious. He neatly dodged the stranger's blow, then swung a vicious right 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. Gordon staggered back a step and sheer horror at the gruesome result of his blow. The stranger then flung up a hand to his shattered features, and his hand came away again. His whole face came away with him. it. Gordon had one horror-stricken glimpse of a featureless blob of rubbery, bluish-grey flesh, in which fiendish eyes of blue-green fire blazed in malignant fury. And then the stranger fumbled at his collar, ripping the linen swiftly away. Something lashed out from beneath his throat, a loathsome, snake-like object, slender and forked at the end. For one ghastly moment, as the writhing

tentacles swung into line with him. Gordon saw its fort ends glow with strange fire. One of vivid blue, the other a sparkling green. And then the world was abruptly blotted out for Blair Gordon. Tonight's podcast is sponsored by A.G.1. Don't deny your age. Defiance. Now, I have a quick question for you.

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He was seated in a chair over near the wall of a large room that was flooded with livid red light from a single globe overhead. beside him sat lay a key also staring with dazed eyes in an effort to comprehend her surroundings directly in front of them stood a figure of stark nightmare horror the weirdly glowing eyes identified the figure as that of the stranger at the Maori hut but there every point of resemblance ceased only the cleverest of facial masks and body padding could have ever enabled this monstrosity to pass unnoticed in the world of normal human beings.

And now that disguise was completely stripped away. This slight frame was revealed as a grotesque parody of that of a human being, with arms and legs like pipe stems, a bald oval head that merged with necklace rigidity directly into a heavy-shouldered body that tapered into an almost wasp-like slenderness at the waist. He was naked save for a loincloth of some metallic fabric. His bluish-gray skin had a dull, oily sheen, strangely suggestive of fine-grained, flexible metal.

The creature's face was hideously unlike anything human. Beneath the glowing eyes was a small circular mouth orifice, with a cluster of gill-like appendages on either side of it. Patches of lighter-coloured skin on other side of the head seemed to serve as ears. From a point just under the head, where the throat of a human being would have been, dangled the foot and a half-long tentacle whose fault tip had sent Gordon into oblivion. Behind the creature, Gordon was dimly aware

of a maze of complicated and 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-gray monstrosity. May I introduce myself? He asked with a mockery. note in his metallic voice. I am Arlock of Zoran. I am an explorer of space and, more particularly, an opener of gates. My home is upon Zoran, which is one of the 11 major planets that circle

about the giant blue-white sun that your astronomers call Rigol. I am here to open the gate between your world and mine. Gordon placed a reassuring hand over Leia. All memory of their call was obliterated in the face of their present parent. He felt a slender fingers twined firmly with his. Warm contact gave both of them new courage. We of Zoran need your planet and intend to take possession of it. Arlott continued. But the vast distance which separates Rangel from your solar system

makes it impracticable to transport any considerable number of our people here in space cars for, though our space cars travel with practically the speed of light, It requires over 540 years for them to cross that great void. So I was sent as a lone pioneer to your earth to do the necessary work here in order to open the gate that will enable Zoran to cross the barrier in less than a minute of your time. That gate is the one through the fourth dimension. For Zoran and your planet in a four-dimensional universe are almost touching each other, in spite of the great distance separating them in a three-dimensional universe.

We, of Zoran, being three-dimensional creatures like you earthlings, cannot even exist on a four-dimensional plane. But we can, by the use of apparatus, open a gate, pass through a thin sector of the fourth dimension, and emerge in a far distant part of our three-dimensional universe. The situation of our two worlds, Arlock continued, is somewhat like that of two dots on opposite ends of a long, strip of paper that's curved almost into a circle.

To two-dimensional beings capable of only realizing and traveling along the two dimensions of the paper itself, those dots might be many feet apart, yet in the third dimension straight across free space, they might be separated by only the thousandth part of an inch. In order to take that shortcut across the third dimension, the two-dimensional creatures of the paper would have only to transform a small strip of the intervening space into a two-dimensional surface like their painter. They could do this, of course, by the use of proper vibration creating machinery, for all things in a material universe are

merely a matter of vibration. We have Zoran planned across the barrier of the fourth dimension by creating a narrow strip of vibrations powerful enough to exactly match and nullify those of the fourth dimension itself. The result will be that this narrow strip will temporarily become an area of three dimensions only, an area over which we can safely pass from our world to yours. Arlock indicated one of the pieces of the apparatus along the opposite wall of the room. It was an intricate arrangement of finely wound coils with wires leading to scores of needle-light points which constantly shimmered and crackled with tiny blue-white flames. Thick cables ran to a bank of concave reflectors with some gleaming grayish metal.

There is the apparatus which will supply the enormous power necessary to nullify the vibrations of the four-of-the-dimensional barrier, Arlock explained. It is a condenser and adapter of the cosmic force that you call the Milliken rays. In Zoran, a similar apparatus is already set up and finished, but the gate can only be opened by simultaneous actions from both sides of the barrier. That is why I was sent on my long journey through space to do the necessary work here. I am now nearly finished. A few more hours will see the final opening of the gate,

and then the fighting hordes of Zoran can sweep through the barrier and overwhelm your planet. When the gate from Zoran to a new planet is first opened, Arlok continued. Our scientists always like to have at least one pair of specimens of the new world's inhabitants sent through to them for experimental use. So tonight, while waiting for one of my final, castings to cool. I improved the time by making a brief raid upon the place you call the

Maori hut. The lady here seemed an excellent type of your earthling women, and the meteoric iron in her necklace made a perfect focus for electric hypnosis. Well, her escort was too inferior a specimen to be of value to me, so I killed him when he attempted to interfere. When you gave chase, I lured you on until I could see whether you might be usable. You proved an excellent specimen, so I merely stunned you. Very soon now I shall be ready to send the two of you through the gate to our scientists in Zora. A cold wave of sheer horror swept over Gordon. It was impossible to doubt the stark and deadly menace promised in the plan of this grim visitor from an alien universe,

a menace that loomed not only for Gordon and Leia, but for the teeming millions of a doomed and defenseless world. Let me show you Zoran, Arlock offered it. Then you may be better able to understand. He turned his back carelessly upon his two captive and strode over to the apparatus along the opposite wall. Gordon longed to hurl himself upon the unprotected back of the retreating Zoranian, but he knew that any attempt of that kind would be suicidal. Arlock's deadly tentacle would strike him down before he was halfway across the room.

He searched his surroundings with desperate eyes for anything that might serve as a weapon. Then his pulse quickened with sudden hope. There on a small table near Leia was the familiar bulk of a forty-five-calibre revolver loaded and ready for use. It was included in a miscellaneous collection of other small earthly tools and objects that Arlock had apparently collected for study. There was an excellent chance that Leia might be able to secure the gun unobserved. Gordon pressed her fingers in a swift attempt at signaling, then jerked his hand ever so slightly toward the table. A moment later, the quick answering pressure of Leia's fingers told him

that she'd understood his message. From the corner of his eye, Gordon saw Lear's other hand begin cautiously groping behind her for the revolver. Then, both Gordon and Lear froze into sudden immobility as Arlock faced them again from beside an apparator slightly reminiscent of an earthly radio set. Arlock threw a switch, and a small bank of tubes glowed pale green. The yard square plate of bluish-gray metal on the wall above the apparatus glowed with milky fluorescence.

It is easy to penetrate the barrier with light waves. Arluck explained. That is a gate that can readily be opened from either side. It was through it that we first discovered Europe. Arluck then threw a rheostat on to more power. The luminous plate cleared switch. And there, Earthlings, is Zora, Alok proclaimed proudly. Leigh and Gordon gasped in sheer amazement, as the glowing plate became a veritable window

into another world, a world of utter and alien terror. The livid light of a giant red sun blazed mercilessly down upon a landscape from which every vestige of animal and plant life had apparently been stripped. Naked rocks and barren soil stretched endlessly to the far horizon in a vast monotony of utter desolation. Arlock twirled the knob of the apparatus and another scene flashed into view. In this scene great gleaming squares and cones of metal rose in towering clusters from the starkly barren land. Hordes of creatures like Arlock swarmed in and around the metal buildings. Giant machines whirled countless wheels in strange tasks.

From a thousand great needle-like projections on the buildings spurted shimmering sheets of crackling flame, bathing the entire scene in a whirling mist of fiery vapors. Gordon realised dimly that he must be looking into one of the cities of Zoran, but every detail of the chaotic whirl of activities was too utterly unfamiliar to carry any real significance to his bewildered brain. He was as hopelessly overwhelmed as a savage would be if transported suddenly into the heart of time square. I look again, twirled the knob. The scene shifted, apparently, to another planet. This world was still alive, with rich verdure and swarming millions of people strangely like those of Earth. But it was a doomed world. The dreaded gate to Zoran had already been opened here. Legions

of bluish-gray Zoronians were attacking the planet's inhabitants, and the attack of those metallic hosts was irresistible. The slight bodies of the Zoranians seemed as impervious to bullets and missiles as though armor-plated. The frantic defence of the beleaguered people of the Doom Planet caused hardly a casualty in the Zoran ranks. The attack of the Zoranians was hideously effective. Clouds of dense yellow fog belched from countless projectors in the hands of these bluish-gray hosts, and beneath that deadly miasma, all animal and plant life on the Doom planet was crumbling. dying and rotting into a liquid slime.

Then even the slime was swiftly obliterated, and as Iranians were left triumphant upon a world starkly desolate. That was one of the minor planets in the swarm that make up the solar system of the sun that your astronomers call canopus. Alok explained. Our first task in conquering a world is to rid it of the unclean surface scum of animal and plant life. When this noxious surface mould is eliminated, the planet is then ready to furnish us sustenance. For we Zeranians live directly upon the metallic elements of the planet itself.

Our bodies are of a substance of which your scientists have never even dreamed. Deathless, invincible, living metal. Our lock again twirled the control of the apparatus, and the scene was shifted back to the planet of Zora. This time to the interior of what was apparently a vast laboratory. Here scores of Zeranian scientists were working upon captives who were pathetically like human beings of earth itself, working with lethal gases and deadly liquids as human scientists might experiment upon noxious pests.

The details of the scene were so utterly revolting, the tortures that were being inflicted so starkly horrible that Lea and Gordon sank back in their chairs, sick and shaken. Arlock snapped off a switch, and the green light in the tubes died. That last scene was the laboratory to which I shall send you to presently, he said callously as he started back across the room toward them. Gordon lurched his feet, his brain a seething whirl of hate in which all thought of caution was gone

as he tensed his muscles to hurl himself upon that grim monstrosity from the bleak and desolate realm of Zora. Then he felt Leia tugging surreptitiously at his right hand. The next moment the bulk of something cold and hard met his fingers. It was the revolver. Lear had secured it while Arlock was busy with his interdimensional televisor. Arlick was rapidly approaching them now, Gordon hoped against hope that the menace of that deadly tentacle might be diverted for the fraction of a second necessary for him to get in a crippling shot.

Leah seemed to divine his thought. She suddenly screamed hysterically and flung herself on the floor, almost to Arlock's feet. Arlock stopped in obvious wonder and bent over, Lear. Gordon took instant advantage of the Zoranian's diverted attention. He whipped the revolver from behind him and fired point-blank at Arlock's unprotected head. The bullet struck squarely, but Arlok barely even staggered. A tiny spot of bluish-gray skin upon his oval skull gleamed faintly for a moment under the bullet's impacts. Then the heavy pellet of lead, thoroughly flattened as though it had struck the triple armour of a battleship,

dropped spent and harmless to the floor. Arlock straightened swiftly. For the moment he seemed to have no thought of retaliating with his deadly tentacle. He merely stood there quite still with one thin arm thrown up to guard his glowing eyes. Gordon sent the remainder of the revolver's bullets crashing home as fast as his finger could press the trigger. At that murderously short range, the smashing rain of lead should have dropped a charging gorilla. But for all the effects Gordon's shots had upon the Zeranian, his ammunition might as well have been pellets of paper. Arlock's glossy hide merely glowed momentarily in tiny patches as the bullets struck and flattened harmlessly.

and that was all. His last cartridge fired, Gordon flung the empty weapon squarely at the blue monstrosity's hideous face. Arlock made no attempt to dodge. The heavy revolver struck him high on the forehead, then rebounded harmlessly to the floor. Arlott paid no more attention to the blow than a man would to the casual touch of a wind-blown feather. Gordon then desperately flung himself forward upon the Zoranian in one last mad effort to over. overwhelm him. Arlock dodged Gordon's wild blows, then gently swept the earthman into the embrace of his thin arms. For one helpless moment, Gordon sensed the incredible strength and

adamantine hardness of the Zeranian slender figure, together with an overwhelming impression of colossal weight in that deceptively slight body. Then Arlock contemptuously flung Gordon away from him. As Gordon staggered backwards, Arlok's tenured Pentechall lashed upward and levelled upon him. His twin tips again glowed bright green and livid blue. Instantly, every muscle in Gordon's body was paralysed. He stood there as rigid at a statue. His body completely deadened from the neck down.

Beside him stood Leah, also frozen motionless in that same weird power. Earthling, you were beginning to try my patience, Arloxnet. Can you not realize that I am utterly invincible in any combat with you? The living metal of my body weighs over 1,600 pounds in your measurements. The strength inherent in that metal is sufficient to tear a hundred of your earth men to shreds. But I don't even have to touch you to vanquish you. The electric content of my bodily structure is so infinitely superior to yours that with this tentacle organ of mine,

I can instantly short-circuit the feeble currents of your nerve impotts. and bring either paralysis or death as I choose. But enough of this. Our luck broke off abruptly. My materials are now ready, and it is time that I finish my work. I shall put you out of my way for a few hours until I am ready to send you through the gate to the laboratories of Zora. The green and blue fire of the tentacles tips flamed to dazzling brightness.

The paralysis of Gordon's body swept swiftly over his brain. and black oblivion engulfed him. When Gordon again recovered consciousness, he found he was lying on the floor of what was apparently a narrow hall, near the foot of a stairway. His hands were lashed tightly behind him, and his feet and legs were so firmly pinioned together that he could scarcely move.

Beside him lay layer, also tightly bound. A short distance down the hall was the closed door of Arlock's workroom, recognizable by the thin line of red light gleaming beneath him. it. Moonlight through a window at the rear of the hall made objects around Gordon fairly clear. He looked at Lear and saw tears glistening on her long lashes. Oh, Blair, I was afraid you'd never waken again, the girl solved. I thought that the fiend had killed you. The voice was breaking hysterically. Steady, darling, Gordon said soothingly. We simply can give up now, you know.

that monstrosity ever opens that a cursive gate of his, then our entire world is doomed. There must be some way to stop him. I've got to find that way and try it, even if it seems only one forlorn chance in a million. Gordon shook his head to clear the numbness, still lingering from the effect of Arlock's tentacle. The Zeranian seemed unable to produce a paralysis of any great duration

with his weird natural weapon. Accordingly, he'd been forced to, bind his captives like two trust fowls while he returned to his labours. Lying as close together as they were, it was a comparatively easy matter for them to get their bound hands within reach of each other. But after fifteen minutes of vain work, Gordon realized that any attempt at untieing the ropes was useless. Arlock's prodigious strength had drawn the knots so tight that no human power could ever loosen them. Then Gordon suddenly thought of one thing in his pockets that might help them.

It was a tiny cigarette lighter of the spring trigger type. It was in his vest pocket completely out of reach of his bound hands, but there was a way out of that difficulty. Gordon and Lear twisted and rolled their bodies like two contortionists

until they succeeded in getting into such a position that Leia was able to get her teeth into the cloth of the vest pocket's edge. A moment of desperate tugging, and the fabric gave way. The lighter dropped from the torn pocket to the floor, where Leia retrieved it. Then they twisted their bodies back to back.

Leia managed to get the lighter flaming in her bound hands. Gordon groped in an effort to guide the ropes on his wrists over the tiny, flickering flame. Then there came the faint, welcome odor of smouldering rope, as the lighter's tiny flame bit into the bonds. Gordon bit his lips to suppress a cry of pain as the flame seared into his skin as well. the flame bit deeper into the rope and a single strand snapped then another strand gave way to gordon the process seemed endless as the flame scorched rope and flesh alike a long minute of lancing agony that seemed hours then gordon could stand no more he tensed his muscles in one mighty agonized effort to end the torture of the flame the weakened rope gave way completely beneath that pain, maddening lunge. Gordon's hands were free.

It was now an easy matter to use the lighter to finish freeing himself and lay it. They made they way swiftly back to the window at the rear of the hall. It slid silently upward. Then, a moment later, they were out in the brilliant moonlight.

Free! They made their way around to the front of the house. Behind the drawn shades of one of the front rooms, an eerie glow of red light marked the love of Arloch's workroom they heard the occasional clink of tools inside the room as the Zoranian diligently worked to complete his apparatus they crept stealthily up to where one of the French windows of Orlock's workroom swung slightly ajar through the narrow crevice they

could see Arloch's grotesque back as he laboured over the complex assembly of the apparatus against the wall one heavy stone flung through the window would probably wreck that delicate mechanism completely. Yet the two watches knew that such a respite would only be a temporary one. As long as Arlock remained alive on this planet to build another gate to Zoran. Earth's eventual doom was certain. Complete destruction of Arlock himself was Earth's only hope of salvation. The Zoranian seemed to be nearing the end of his labours. He held the apparatus momentarily and walked over to a workbench where he picked up a slender rod-like tool donning a heavy glove to shield his left hand he selected a small plate of bluish-gray metal

then pressed a switch in the handle of the tool in his right hand a blade of blinding white flame seemingly as solid as a blade of metal spurted the length of a foot from the tool's tip arlop began cutting the plate with the flame the blade shearing through the heavy metal as easily as a hot knife shears through butter the sight brought a sudden sense search of exultant hope to Gordon. He swiftly drew Lear away from the window, far enough to the side that their low-voiced conversation could not be heard from inside the workroom. Well, there's our one chance. He explained excitedly. That blue fiend is vulnerable, and that flame tool of his is the weapon to reach his vulnerability. Did you notice how carefully he was

to shield his other hand with a glove before he turned the tool on? He can be hurt by that blade of flame, and probably hurt badly. Leia nodded in quick understanding. If I could lure him out of the room for just a moment, you could slip in through the window and get that flame tool, Blair, she suggested eagerly. That might work, Gordon agreed reluctantly. But Leia don't run any more risks than you absolutely have to.

He then picked up a small rock. Here, take this with you. open the door into the hall and attract Arluck's attention by throwing the rock at his precious apparatus. Then the minute he sees you, try to escape through the hall again. He'll leave his work to follow you. When he returns to his workroom, I'll be in there waiting for him. I'll be waiting with a weapon that can stab through even that armor-plated hide of his. They separated then.

Lear to enter the house, Gordon to return to the window. Arluck was back over in front of the apparatus, fitting into place the piece of metal he'd just cut. The flame tool, his switch now turned off, was still on the workbench. Gordon's heart pounded with excitement as he crouched there, with his eyes fixed upon the closed hall door. The minutes seemed to drag interminably. Then suddenly Gordon's muscles tensed. The knob of the hall door had turned ever so slightly. Leah was at her post.

The next moment the door was flung open with a violence that sent it slamming back against the wall. The slender figure of Leah stood framed in the opening, her dark eyes blazing as she flung one hand up to hurl her missile. Arlop whirled around just as Leia through the rock straight at the intricate gate-opening apparatus. With incredible speed, he saw Aeania flung his own body over to shield his fragile instruments.

the rock thudded harmlessly against his metallic chest and then arlock's tentacle flung out like a striking cobra its fork-tipped flaming blue and green fire as it focused upon the open door but leah was already gone gordon heard her flying footsteps as she raced down the hall arlock promptly sped after her in swift pursuit as arluck passed through the door into the hall gordon flung himself into the room and sped straight for the workbench He snatched the flame tool up, then darted over to the wall by the door. He was not a second too soon. The heavy tread of Arlock's return was already audible in the hall just outside. Gordon prepared to stake everything upon his one,

slim chance of disabling that fearful tentacle, before Arlock could bring it into action. He pressed the tiny switch in the Flam Toll's handle just as Arlok came through the door. Arlok, startled by the glare of the door, the flame tools blazing blade whirled toward gordon but too late that thin searing shaft of vivid flame had already struck squarely at the base of the zoranian's tentacle a seething spray of hissing sparks marked the place with a flame bit deeply home arloch screamed a ghastly metallic note of

anguish like nothing human the ziranian's powerful hands clutched at gordon but he leaped lively backward out of their reach. Then Gordon again attacked. The flame-tall shining blade licking in and out like a rapy. The searing flame swept across one of Arlock's arms, and the Zeranian winced. Then the blade stabbed swiftly at Arlox's waist. He half-doubled as he flinched back. Gordon shifted his aim with lightning speed and sent the blade of flame lashing in one accurate,

terrible stroke that caught Arlok squarely in the eyes. again Arlock screamed in intolerable agony as that tearing flame darkened forever his glowing eyes In berserker fury The tortured Zeranian charged blindly toward Gordon Gordon warily dodged to one side Arlock now sightless and his tentacle crippled Still had enough power in that mighty metallic body of his

To tear a hundred earthmen to pieces Gordon stung Arlok's shoulder with the flame then desperately leaped just to one side in time to dodge a flailing blow that would have made pulp of his body had it landed. Arlock went stark wild in his frenzied efforts to come to grips with this unseen adversary. Furniture crashed and splintered to kindling wood beneath his threshing feet. Even the stout walls of the room shivered and cracked at the incredible weight of Arlock's body as it crooned against them. Gordon circled lively around the crippled blue monstrosity like a timber wolf circling a wounded moose. He began concentrating his attack upon Arlock's left leg,

half a dozen deep slashes with a searing flame, and suddenly the thin leg crumpled and broke. And Arlock crashed helplessly to the floor. Gordon was now able to shift his attack to Arlock's head, dodging the blindly flailing arms of the Zoranian he stabbed again and again at that oval-shaped skull the searing thrusts began to have their effect Arloch's convulsive movements became slower and weaker Gordon sent the flame stabbing in a long final thrust

in an attempt to pierce through to that alien metal brain with startling suddenness the flame burned its way home to some unknown centre of life force in the oval skull There was a brief but a pulling gush of bright purple flame from Arlock's eye sockets and mouth orifice, and then his twitching body stiffened. His bluish-gray hide darkened with incredible swiftness into a dull black. Arlock was dead. Gordon sickened at the grisly ending to the battle, snapped off the flame tool and turned to

search for Leia. He found her already standing in the hall door, alive and unhurted. I escaped through the window at the end of the hall, she explained. I'll quit following me as soon as he saw that you two were gone from where he left us tied. She shuddered as she looked down at the Zoranian's mangled body. I saw most of your fight with him, Blair.

It was terrible, awful. But Blair, we've won. Yeah, now we'll make sure of the fruits of our victory. Gordon said grimly, starting over toward the gate-opening apparatus with the flame tool in his hand. Only a few minutes work with the shearing blade of flame reduced the intricate apparatus to a mere tangle pile of twisted metal. Arlock, gate-opener of Zoran, was dead, and the gate to that grim planet was now irrevocably closed. Blair, did you feel it too? A eerie feeling of countless eyes still watching us from Zora.

There was Frank Orrin Leia's half-whispered question. You know Arlock said that they'd watched us for centuries from their side of the barrier? I'm sure they're watching us now. Will they send another opener of gaze to take up the work where Arlock failed? Gordon took Leia into his arms. Ah, I don't know, dear. He admitted gravely. They may send another messenger, but I doubt it.

This world of ours has had its warning and will heed it. The watchers of Zoran must know that in the 540 years it would take their next messenger to get here, the earth will have done more than enough to prepare an adequate defense for even Zoran's minutes. I doubt if they'll ever again be an attempt made to open the gate of Zoran. The destroyer, the pencil in the hand of Alan Parker, refused to obey his will. Some strange unseen force pushed his will aside and took possession of the pencil point, so that what he drew was not his own. It was the same when he turned from drawing board to typewriter.

The sentences were not of his framing. The ideas were utterly foreign to him. This was the first hint he received of the fate that was drawing in like night upon him and his beautiful wife. Parker, a young writer of growing reputation, who illustrated his own work, was making a series of pencil sketches for a romance partly finished the story was as joyous and elusive as sunlight and until today his sketches had held the same quality now he couldn't tap the reservoir from which he'd taken the wind-blown hair and smiling eyes of madeline his heroine when he drew or wrote he seemed to be submerged in the dark waters of a measureless evil pit the face that motted him from the paper was stamped with a

world old knowledge of forbidden things. Parker dropped his pencil and leaned back, tortured. He and his wife Betty had taken this house in Pine Hills, a small and extremely quiet suburban village, solely for the purpose of concentration on the book which was to be the most important work he'd ever done. He went to the door of the room that he used for a studio and called out. Betty, can you come here a moment, please? There was a little. It was a little. It was a door of the room that he used for a studio and called out. Betty, Betty, you know, a patter of running feet on the stairs, and then a girl of twenty or thereabouts came into the room. Any man would have said she was a blessing. Her hair was yellow like ripe corn, and her vivid blue eyes held depth and character and charm. "'But look!' exclaimed Parker.

"'What do you think of this stuff?' For a moment there was silence. Then Alan Parker saw something he'd never seen before in his wife's face for him or for his work a look of complete disgust well i wouldn't believe you capable of doing anything so so horrid she said coldly how could she i don't know his arms which had been ready to take her to him for comfort dropped the work has been difficult lately it's as though something was pulling up my mind, but not like this. I mean, it isn't me. Well, it must be you since it came out of you. She turned away and moved restlessly to one of the windows. Through me, muttered Parker. Ideas come through me. You'll have to do something.

Yeah, what? I don't know what to do. Why don't go see that new doctor? asked Betty over a shoulder. you know doctor frederick von stein von stein repeated parker vaguely don't know him anyhow i don't need a doctor why in the world made you think of that nothing except i can see his house from here he's take on what they call the old reynolds place you know opposite the church we looked at it and thought it was too large for us oh he's made a lot of alterations oh uh Yeah. Parker had placed the newcomer, more recent than himself. I had an idea that he was a doctor of philosophy, though, not medicine. He adds half a dozen degrees, they say. Certainly he's a stunning-looking man. I saw him on the streets. Maybe he doesn't practice. The artist was gazing, baffled and sick at heart upon what he'd wrought. What could he do, unless it's my liver? It might be a psychoanalyst or something like that, she replied slowly. But why the wild interest in this particular doctor? Parker got up and looked at her. He felt irritable and was ashamed of him. Only for your work, said Betty.

A faint pink touched her cheeks. Alan Parker had a sudden feeling of certainty that his wife was lying to him. To one who knew the parkers, it would have been equally impossible to think. think of Betty as lying or of her husband is believing such a thing and Parker was outraged by his own suspicion he sprang up and began to pace the floor all right then he exploded my work is going to the dogs right there's an appointment with Cartwright tomorrow to show him these sketches and the last few chapters i've done we'll go now but this man can't do anything for me or try somebody else In ten minutes they were walking out the quiet street toward the present home of Dr. Friedrich von Stein.

Despite his self-absorption, Parker could not help noticing that his wife had never looked more attractive than she did at this moment. Her colour had deepened, little wisps of hair curled against her cheeks, and there was a sparkle in her eyes which he knew came only on very particular occasions. Even from the outside, it was apparent that many strange things had been done to the dignified house of renter. A massive aerials hung above the roof. Some new windows had been cut at the second floor and filled with a glass of a peculiar reddish-purple tinge. A residence had been turned into a laboratory in sharp contrast to the charming houses up and down the street and the church of grey stone that stood opposite.

Beside the door at the main entrance a modest plate bore the legend Dr. Friedrich von Stein. Parker pressed the bell, then he squared his broad shoulders and waited. A very miserable, very likable young man with a finely shaped head and a good set of muscles under his well-cut clothes. Well, he brought his sketches, but he was uncomfortable with the portfolio under his arm. It seemed, well, he seemed like it was contaminating him. The door open to reveal a blocky figure of a man in a workman's blouse and overalls.

The fellow was pale of eye, tall-headed, and he appeared to be good-natured but of little intelligence. The only remarkable thing about him was a livid welt that ran across one cheek, from nose to ear. Beside him a glossy-coated dachshund, wagged furiously, after having barked once as a matter of duty. May we see Dr. von Stein? asked Parker, or if he's in. I will ask, Herr Doctor, if he is in, replied the man stiffly. "'Dwomkov!' roared voice from inside the house. An instant later, the man and the dog shrank back along the hall, and there appeared in their place one of the most striking personalities

Alan Parker had ever seen. Dr. Friedrich von Stein was inches more than six feet tall, and he stood perfectly upright, with the unmistakable carriage or well-drilled soldier. He was big-boned, but lean, and every movement was made with military precision, vision. More than any other feature, his eyes impressed Parker. They were steady, penetrating, and absolutely black. But through a thread of grey hair here and there, his well-kept

beard and hair were black. He might have been any age from 40 to 60, so deceptive was his appearance. "'Come in, if you please,' he said before Parker could speak. Vonstein's voice was rich and deep, but with a metallic quality of the which somehow corresponded with his mechanical smile. Except for the guttural ars, there was hardly a hint of the foreigner in his speech. It is a Mr. and Mrs. Parker, I believe. I am Dr. von Steen. He stood aside for them to pass into the hallway, and while they murmured their thanks, he shot a volley of German at the man whom he called Heinrich.

The frightened servant vanished, and the parkers were taken into a little. living room furnished carelessly, but in good enough taste. Betty took her place on a couch, to which the doctor led her with a bow. Pager sank into an overstuffed chair not far from the window. I learned your names because of the beauty of the madame, said Edwinstein, as he stood looming above the mantle. Again he bowed. I could not see her without wishing to know how such a charming woman was called. You're my neighbors from down the street, I believe. Yes, replied Alan. He wanted to be agreeable, but found it difficult. And I think Mrs. Parker has developed a great admiration for you. She persuaded me to come here today. Listen, um, are you by a chance a psychoanalyst?

I don't even know that you're a doctor of medicine, but, uh, I know a very great deal about the human mind interrupted dr von stein calmly i know a great deal about many things i'm not going to practice medicine here in pine hills because i have research work to do but i will help you if i can oh what is your trouble the question brought back to park at the mood of half an hour ago almost savagely he snapped with portfolio open and spread out a few of his recent drawings with some of the earlier ones for comparison. Look, he cried. These vicious things are what I'm doing now.

I can't help myself. The pencil does not obey me. Apparently I have no emotional control. It's as though my normal ideas were shouldered aside, like people in a crowd. My writing today was as bad as these illustrations. I'm doing a book. Consider these things carefully, Doctor. They're not obscene, except by inference.

They can't be censored. The book would go through the mails, but they are deadly. Look at my heroine in these two pictures. In one she's like... Like Violetson and the other, she looks capable of any crime. What is she, a vampire, if there is such a thing, a witch? I can almost believe in demonology since I made these last drawings. Parker, in spite of his excitement, tried to read the face of Dr. Freitrich von Steen.

He found nothing but the automatic smile upon that mask. Yet it seemed to the artist that this time there was a hint of real pleasure in the curve of his lips. Was it possible that anyone could like those drawings? Parker began to think that he was going insane. This is most unfortunate for you, rumbled the doctor. I understand, but I trust that the condition can be remedied if it persists. You, Mr. Parker, and you, madame, do you understand something of physics of psychology or metaphysics? I fear that I am rather ignorant, answered Betty.

Certainly I am in comparison with a man of your attainments. Dr. von Stein once again bowed. He then turned his black eyes upon Parker. And you, sir, I must adjust my explanation to, what should I say, to your knowledge of the higher-reaching. of scientific thoughts. Well, I majored in philosophy in college, said Parker, hesitatingly. That was quite a time ago, Herr Doctor. Of course, I've tried to keep up with the conclusions of science,

but a writer or painter doesn't have too much opportunity. He has his own problems to concern him. Ah, yes, indeed. Dr. von Stein was thoughtful. So, and especially for the benefit of the the madame i shall speak in terms of the concrete please don't consider me stupid begged betty but i do want to understand certainly except that you are not stupid madame i will proceed well both of you i assume know something of the radio very good you know that the etheric wave transmits the message

and that it is received and amplified so it is within the range of the human ear These waves were there when Paleolithic man hunted his meat with a stone-tipped club. But to use them, it was necessary to invent the microphone and a receiving instrument. What I have said you already know. But here is what may startle you. Human thought is an ethereal wave of the same essential nature as the radio wave. They're both electrical currents external to man. Thoughts sweep across the human mind as sound currents sweep across the

aerials of a radio. God, I told you, Alan Parker turned a triumphant face to his wife. Pardon me, Harold Doctor, but I've tried to convince Mrs. Parker that my idea came from outside. Ah, exactly. Dr. Stein took no offence. And a difference between the mind and the radio set is that with the radio you tune in upon whatever you choose and when you choose. But the mind is under no such control, although it should be, receives that to which it happens to be open, or that thought which has been intensified and strengthened by having been received and entertained by other minds. In India, they say, five thousand died of the plague and fifty thousand died of fear. Do you both follow me?

Well, it was unnecessary to ask. Betty sat on the edge of the couch, intent upon every word. Parker, although more restrained, was equally interested. Moreover, he was delighted to have what he had felt instinctively confirmed, in a way, by a man of science. And Herbert Spencer said, continued the doctor, that no thought, no feeling is ever manifested save as a result of a physical false. This principle will before long be a scientific commonplace, and Huxley predicted that we would arrive at a mechanical equivalent of consciousness but I will not attempt to bolster my position with authorities I know and I can prove what I know you

mr. Parker in receiving some particularly annoying thoughts which have been intensified it may be by others or by one other human willpower can alter the rate of vibration of the line of force or aetheric wave so-called good thoughts have a high rate of vibration Those which are caught bad ordinarily have a low rate. Have you perhaps an enemy? Well, not that I know of, replied Parker in a low voice. And it would follow that this is accidental.

Good God, do you mean that, well, do you mean to say that someone could have done this to me maliciously? Oh, so far my experiments leave something to be desired. said Dr. von Schnein, without answering directly. No doubt you are peculiarly susceptible to thoughts which bear in any way on your work. Oh, but isn't there any help for it? asked Betty. She was regarding her husband with the eyes of a stranger. I believe I can do something for Mr. Parker.

There was a knock on the door then. The doctor bombed an order to come in. Heinrich, with a dachshund at his heels, entered bearing a tray with a bottle of wine and some slices of heavy fruit cake. He drew out a table and placed a tray on it. Do not bring that dog in when I have guests, said Vonstein. He spoke with a gleam of bright white teeth. You know what will happen, Heinzsche.

Yeah, Herr Doctor, I take Hans out. The man was clearly terrified. He gathered the dog into his arms and fairly fled from the room. Dr. vonstein turned. with a smile i have to discipline him he explained he's a stupid fellow but faithful i can't have ordinary servants about there are scientific men who would be willing to bribe them for a look at my laboratory why didn't know such things were done among scholars said betty slowly what i have accomplished means power madame exclaimed the doctor there are jackals in every walk of life

If an unscrupulous man of science got into my laboratory, a physicist, for instance, well, he might find out certain things. Dr. von Schuyen then returned to his duties as host. He filled their glasses, and watched with satisfaction, Betty's obvious enjoyment of the cake. A box of mellow havannas appeared from a cabinet, imported cigarettes from a smoking-stand. But Parker, in spite of a liking for good wine, and tobacco, was far too much concerned about his work to forget the errand that had brought him there. So, um, you think, he said when there's an opportunity, that you can help me, Dr. Van Stein.

I can, replied von Stein firmly. But before attempting anything, I'd like to wait a day or two. The attacking thoughts may become less violent, or your resistance greater. in either of which cases the condition will fade out you'll either get better or much worse if you are worse come to see me again and i promise that i will do something to help you i'll come back and thank you parker felt better and more cheerful than he had since the beginning of this disturbance while few things could make me suffer so much as trouble with my work "'Ah, that's what I thought,' agreed Dr. von Stein. Betty got up. Her husband caught the look in her eyes as they met the bright, black gaze of Dr. von Stein, and he went cold.

That look had always been for him alone. Her feet seemed to linger on the way to the door. Oh, she's wonderful, she breathed as they started down the uneventful street. Well, scientific things never interested me before, but he kind of makes them vital, alive. And yet, said Parker, thoughtfully, there's something really strange and uncanny about that man. Nonsense, exclaimed Betty. It's because he's a genius. Don't be so small, Alan.

Parker gasped, and remained silent. He could remember a time when he was. his wife had ever spoken of him in quite that way. They finished the little journey home without speaking again and Parker went directly to the studio. He sat down with the drooping shoulders and considered the mess he'd made of his book. Well, there was nothing to do but to see Cartwright tomorrow and face the music. Dinner that night was a mournful affair. The soft footsteps of the servant going in and out of the dining room, the ticking of the clock were almost the only sounds. Betty deep in her own thoughts. Parker was too miserable to talk. He went to bed early and lay staring

into the darkness for what seemed like an eternity of slow, moving hours. The tall, deep-voiced clock in the hallway downstairs had just struck one when suddenly Parker's room was flooded with light. He sat up, blinking, and saw Betty standing near the bed. Her fingers twisted against one another. Her face was drawn and white. "'Allen,' she whispered. "'I'm afraid.' Instantly he was on his feet. His arms went around her, and the yellow head dropped wearily against his shoulder.

"'Affraid of what?' he cried out. "'What is it, sweetheart?' "'I don't know.' "'Well, at once her body stiffened and she pulled away from him. Then she laughed. "'Oh, nonsense. "'I must have been having a bad dream. "'It's nothing.

"'I'm sorry I woke you up, Alan.' and she was gone before he could stop her or bewildered he didn't know whether to follow better not he thought she'd sleep now and perhaps he would too but he was worried bet he was becoming less and less like herself at last parker did sleep to awaken shortly after daylight he got a quick breakfast and took an early train to new york when john cartwright a shrewd and kindly man well-advanced in years, arrived at his office, Alan Parker was right there waiting for him. Cartwright had shown real affection for the younger man, almost a paternal interest. He beamed as usual, until he sat down with the new drawings.

Slowly the smile faded from his face. He went over them twice, three times, and then he looked up. My boy, he said. Did you do these? Yes. Do you know that you're turning a delicate and beautiful romance into a lascivious libel on the human race? It's being done, replied Parker in a low voice. And I...

I can't help myself. Why do you mean by that? I mean that when I start to draw, Madeline might... And produces that woman of Babylon. The writing's just as bad. It's full of snarred hints, double meaning. I'll destroy the stuff. I've been to see a psychoanalyst.

Ah, he said forthfully. I'm up you're tired, Alan. Why not take Betty on a cruise or something? There'll still be time for fall publication. I'm going to try everything possible. I'd rather be dead than to do work like this. When Parker left his friend, he was somewhat encouraged. After the first shot, Cartwright had been inclined to make light of the difficult.

and by the time Alan Parker reached Pine Hills, his stride had the usual swing and snap. He ran up the steps of his house and burst into the living room with a smile. Betty was sitting by one of the windows, her hands lying relaxed in her lap. She turned with a sombre face toward her husband and spoke before he had time to say a word of greeting. You knew that Cordelia and Lyman died a short time ago, didn't you? "'Hey, what's that?' exclaimed Parker, bewildered. "'Lignment. Oh, the old lady down the street who left her money to found a home for aged spinsters. "'What about it?'

"'But she didn't leave her money to found her home for aged spinsters, Alan. "'She'd said she was going to do it, but, well, and everyone thought so. "'Her will was admitted to probate, or whatever they call it yesterday. "'She left half a million, all she had. to Dr. Frederick von Stein, to be used as he thinks best for the advancement of science. Good God! Parker stared at her. Why, I didn't know she knew him. He'd only been here a week or so when she dies. Well, there isn't a floor in the will, they say.

You can imagine that all the Pine Hills is talking. Well, said Parker philosophically, he's lucky i hope he does something good with it he will reply betty with conviction he'll do many good things Parker told her of his interview with cartwrights but she seemed little interested he didn't try to work that day but after he put the offending drawings and manuscript out of sight he wandered read smoked and in the evening persuaded betty to take a moonlight walk with him they passed the house of Dr. von Stein, from which came a faint humming that sounded like a dynamo. Across the street the church was a light for some service. Triumphant music drifted to them. The moon hung above the spire,

with its cross outlined darkly against the brilliant sky. The windows were great jewels, and Betty drew a deep breath. Sometimes, Alan, she said, I feel like praying. You are a beautiful prayer whispered Parker she walked close to him holding his arm and repeated softly are not two prayers a perfect strength and shall I feel afraid but that was the end of that moods by the time they arrived home Betty was again in that strange aloof and cold and slightly hard woman of the past few days again depression settled upon Alan Parker the next morning he breakfasted alone and went directly to the studio without seeing Betty. Sun streamed into the room and the pencil moved swiftly.

For a brief time Parker thought he was himself again, as Madeline grew upon the block of paper. But by the end, it was terrible. The last few strokes made her grotesque. This time the woman he'd drawn was not merely evil. She was a mocking parody of his heroine. He threw the drawing and pencil across the room, but no real artist can be discouraged short of death, so he went to work again and laboured until lunchtime.

The results were no better, although they varied. Now it seemed that some malevolent pal was playing with him, torturing him to the accompaniment of devilish laughter. He was haggard and actually stooped of body when he bathed his face and went down to the dining room. For across the table, Betty regarded him curiously. Fleming Proctor shot himself last night. She announced calmly. This morning they found him dead in his office.

Proctor, you don't mean the president of the Pine Hill's National Bank? Yes. The expression on Betty's face did not change. There was a note saying that he was sorry. It seems he'd made a large loan without security to an unknown. person and the bank examiner was coming today. Prater said he couldn't help what he did. I know it was confused as though he were trying to tell something and just couldn't. I think his mind must have given way, particularly as they can't trace the loan, although

the money is undoubtedly gone. Wait, that kind of thing doesn't happen. Parker was stunned. He'd known Fleming Proctor and liked him. They met often at the country's Jacob. Well, Proctor was honest and a fine businessman. Well, it did happen, Alan. I'd like to know more about it. That would have been another case for Dr. von Stein to take in hand. Perhaps, said Betty, in a voice like ice, but I'm more interested in finding out how soon you're going to return to normal. Frankly, I'm beginning to get bored. Without a word, Parker rose and left the room.

Never before it, his wife hurt him like this. Doubly sensitive just now, he was suffering alone in the studio when the telephone ran. Dr. Vonstein speaking. Are you better, Mr. Parker? Worse. Much worse.

Then come to my house this evening at nine. May I expect you, and alone? Yeah. There was much Parker wanted to say, but he choked the words back. Yeah, I'll be there and alone. And I shall be ready for you. Goodbye. Alan Parker hung up the phone.

He didn't leave the studio again until evening. As Parker approached the house of Dr. Fritrich von Stein, he saw that the church was lighted as it had been the night before. In a clear sky, the moon rode above the spire. He paused to let his glance sweep up and along the beautiful line that ran from earth to the slender cross. That was how he felt. He wanted to rise as that line rose, from cumbering earth to clarity and beauty. He mounted the steps and rang the bell.

Dr. von Stein met him, with eyes and teeth agleam in the hallway light. Wearily, Parker stepped inside. His mood of the moment before was now. fading. I go upstairs to my laboratory, if you please, said the doctor. It is best that I see you there, for it may be that you will need treatment. I need something, replied Parker as he went up a long flight of stairs. I'm in a bad way. Without answer von Steen, let him down a short corridor and held open a door. Alan Parker stepped into a room that bewildered him with its strange contrast. At a glance he saw that nearly the whole upper floor of the building had been converted into one gigantic room.

There were a big stone fireplace, where burning driftwoods sent up its many tinted flames. Heinrich stood rigidly at attention. Hans, the dachshund, crouched at his feet. When the dog started to meet Parker, a guttural command stopped him. Here there were bearskins on the floor, huge stuffed chairs, footrests, little tables, humidor's, pipe racks, and all that one could desire for absolute comfort. Two German dueling swords were crossed above the mantle. But beyond this corner, everything was different.

Parker saw the mass windows of reddish-purple glass. He saw apparatus for which he had no name, as well as some of the ordinary paraphernalia of the chemical laboratory. I was wiring everywhere and a multitude of lighting fixtures. Utilitarian tables, desk and chairs were placed about with mathematical precision. There were plates and strips of metal set into the glass smooth flooring, which was broken by depressions and elevations of unusual form. The most striking thing in the room was a huge copper bowl that hung inverted from the ceiling.

In it, an extending down below the rim was what seemed to be a thick and stationary mist. It looked as though the bowl had been filled with a silver-gray myth. and then turn bottom-side up, but the cloud did not fall or float away. I can think and speak best from my desk, von Steen was saying. Please sit down facing me in the chair which Heinrich will place for you, and then we will talk. Heinrich rolled one of the overstuffed chairs noiselessly to a position about six feet from the desk. Parker noticed a long metal strip in the floor between him and the doctor. Just then Hans wriggled forward and the artist scratched his ears to be rewarded by a grateful time.

Again a command from Heinrich brought the dog to heal, but the voice was not so gruff this time. Together they returned to the fireplace. Vonstein had his hands rest upon the desktop. The surface covered with levers, electric switches, push buttons and contrivances the nature of which Parker could not guess. The doctor leaned forward He threw over a switch The lights in the room became less bright He pressed a button

The dance macabre of Saint-Sons Floated weirdly upon the air As though the music came from afar off Is that part of the treatment? Asked Parker with a faint smile It's not exactly cheering Oh, merely an idiosyncrasy of mine answered von Stein, showing his teeth.

Before anything is done, I must, in order to aid the receptivity of your mind, go a little further with the explanation of certain things which I mentioned the other day. I promise not to bore you, but more than that, Mr. Parker, I promise that you will be more interested than you have ever been in anything else. It seemed to Parker that there was something sinister in the manner and speech of Dr. vonstein. the dance of death did that music have a meaning impossible it was only his sick mind that was allowing such thoughts to come to him well um anything that'll help he murmured you have noticed that copper ball vonstein did not wait for him reply the mystery appearance inside and underneath it is given by thousands upon thousands of minute platinum wires when it is in use a slight electrical current is passed through it, varying in power according to the rate of vibration needed.

That instrument, my dear sir, is a transmitter of fault. I may call it the microphone of the mind. I can tune in on any mind in the world by experimenting up and down the vibration range to determine the susceptibility of the particular person. The human mind does not need an amplifier as the radio receiving set does rather it acts as its own amplifier that is once after having received the thoughts i invented one just to prove that it could be done i equipped Heinrich with it and in half an hour by suggestion reduced him to his present state of docile stupidity i have mr parker the means of of moving people to do my bidding von stein stopped abruptly as over-emphasis and to allow his astounding statements to take effect

Parker sat stunned struggling to grasp all the implications of what he just heard suddenly they became clear he saw events in order and in relation to each other so that's how it was with the cordelia lineman he cried hoarsely leaning forward and it was you who had that money from from Fleming Proctor. You are not unintelligent, Dr. von Stein. Better that science should have the Lyman money than a few old women

of no particular use. As for Procter, he was a fool. I would have protected him. My pictures. My book. I can cure you, Mr. Parker. If I choose,

and anyone is at the mercy of this man. grown part not absolutely i'm sorry to say replied the doctor the action of thought on the human consciousness is exactly like that of a sound on the tuning for when the mind is tuned right or say for illustration the lower vibrations are not picked up out of the ether but as few minds are tuned right and as all vary from time to time i am practically omnipotent you You changed the nature of my wife. Parker was getting a hold of himself again and could speak with a degree of calmness.

Well, that's a worse crime than the one you've committed against me directly. Mr. Parker, said the doctor impressively. You are in a web. I am the spider, you are the fly. I don't particularly desire to hurt you, but I do want your wife. This is the crux of the matter. She is the woman to share my triumphs And already I have aroused her interest

Give her up And you will continue your work as before Refuse and you will lose her Just as certainly as though you give her to me For my dear sir You will be insane in less than a month from now I promise you that Alan Parker was not one to indulge in melodrama

For a long moment he sat looking into the black eyes of one I. And then he spoke carefully. If my wife of her own will loved you and wanted freedom, I'd let her go. But this is a kind of hypnosis, and it's diabolical. Who but the devil is the father of magic? asked the doctor, cheerfully. Hypnosis is unconsciously based on a scientific principle which I have mastered. Repeated advertising of a toothbrush or a box of crackers is mild mental suggestion, hypnosis, if you will. Now, my dear fellow, be sensible. No, growled Parker.

Vonstein laughed. He moved a lever upon a dial and a sheet of blue flame quivered between them. With another movement of the lever, it vanished. I could destroy you instantly, he said, and completely. And no one could prove a crime. I shall not do it, though. I have no time to be bothered with investigations. Think of the fate I promised you.

Think, and I have no doubt you will give her up. Never, I won't. Parker wiped cold drops from his forehead, but the doctor frowned thoughtfully. I'll intensify her desire to come here tonight, he said. She herself will persuade you. Parker set his fingers into the,

arms of his chair as von Steen rose and walked to the copper bowl. He now stood directly under it and put on goggles with shields fitting close to his feet. At the pressure of his foot a table like a fair rose from the floor in front of him. This, like the desk, was equipped with numerous dials, buttons and levers. Von Steins started to manipulate them. The great cap of copper descended until his head was enveloped by the mist of platinum wires. A faint humming grew in the room, and a tiny bell tinkled. Ah, the connection is made, murmured von Schuyen. He lifted a hand for silence.

Then his fingers leaped among the gadgets on the table. After that came a brief period, measured by seconds, of immobility. Then the table sank from view. The copper bowl lifted, and Dr. vonstein went back to his chair. "'Ah, she'll be here shortly,' he said. "'If that does not change your mind.' He then shrugged. Parker knew what that shrug meant.

He searched his mind for a plan and found none. Better to die fighting than yield, or risk the vengeance of Friedrich von Stein. If he could get the doctor away from the desk where he controlled the blue-white flame, there might be a chance to do something. vonstein was by far the larger man but parker had been an athlete all of his life so if so that mass of copper and platinum he said tentatively that'll make you the master of the world my brain my intelligence has made me master of the world corrected von schne

proudly he was touched in the right spot now you have not seen it all yet he said He sprang up and went to one of the tables. From his pocket he took a piece of paper and crumbled it into a ball while, with the other hand, he made some electrical connections to a plate of metal set into the surface of the table. Next he placed the wad of paper on the plate. Then, standing at arm's length from the apparatus, he pressed a button. Instantly the paper disappeared behind a screen of the colours of the spectrum, from red to violet. The banded colours were there for a minute fraction of a second, and then there was nothing

where the paper had been on the plate. Vonstein smiled as he stepped away from the table. The electron is formed by the crossing of two lines of force, he said, and the interaction of positive and negative polarity. The electron is a stress in the ether, nothing more, but it is the stuff of which all matter is made. Thought is vibration in one dimension, matter in two. You've just seen me untie the nods. Dissociate the electrons, as you will. In plain language, I have caused matter to vanish utterly. That paper is not burned up. No, it no longer exists in any form. The earth upon which we stand, Parker, can be dissolved

like mist before the sun. Appalled as he was at this man who boasted and made good on his terrible boasts, Alan Parker had not forgotten the purpose that was in him. Now was his chance, while Von Stein stood smiling triumphantly between the table and desk. Parker shocked from his chair with the speed of utter desperation. He fainted and drove a vicious uppercut to the juror of Dr. Friedrich vonstein. The doctor reeled that he did not go down. His fists swung. Parker found him to be no boxer and beat her. tattoo upon his midriff. Vonstein began to slump. Then two thick muscled arms closed around the artist from behind, and he was lifted clear of the floor. He kicked, tried to turn, but it was

useless. The doctor recovered himself, and his eyes blazed in fury. Put him in the chair, Heinrich, he roared. For this, I will show you what I can do, Herr Parker. At that instant, little Hans, who had been yelping on the edge of the battle, suddenly dashed in. He leaped for the throat of Vonstein, and the doctor kicked him brutally. The shriek of agony from Hans loosened the arms of Heinrichsau, and Parker got his footing again. He saw the clumsy serving man spring forward and gather his dog up to his chest. So again, Parker rushed for his enemy. It was clear now that von Stein was cut off from the controls he wanted,

and without Heinrich he could no longer master Parker in a fight. For an instant, he stood baffled. Then he retreated the length of the room, taking what blows he couldn't beat off. He staggered upon a plate of metal set in the floor, righted himself, and failed in an attempt to catch hold of Parker. Suddenly he bowed in the direction of the distant doorway. Alan turned.

It was Betty. She was coming down the room, staring and breathless. Lebenz-e-voel, cried von Stein. Farewell, madam, I should like to take you with me. A great flash of colours from the spectrum sent Parker reeling back. Dr. Friedrich von Stein had gone the way of the crumpled ball of paper. There was a long moment of silence, and Alan Parker found his wife in his arms, clinging to him. Are not too prayers?

A perfect strength? She murmured, sobbing gently against his heart. The earthman's burden. Denny O'Lear was plain blackjack when the colonel's orderly found him. He hastily buttoned his tunic and in a few minutes, alert and very military,

was standing at attention in the little office on the ground floor of the Denver IFP barracks. His swanky blue uniform fitted without a ring. his little round skullcap was perched at the regulation angle oh lear said the colonel they're having a little trouble at the blue river station of mercury trouble oh lear said placidly the colonel looked him over he saw a man past his first youth 35 possibly 40 o'lea was well knit sandy head not over five feet six inches in His hair was close cropped, his features flammatic, his eyes are light blue with thick, short, light-colored lashes, his teeth excellent. The scar, dead white on a brown cheekbone, was a reminder of an encounter with one of the numerous Sorians of Venus.

I'm sending you, explained the Colonel, because you're more experienced and not like some of these kids, always spoiling for a fight. There's something strange about this affair. Moronis, factor of the Blue River Post, reports that his assistant has disappeared, vanished, simply gone. But only three months ago, the former factor, Ramona's was his assistant, disappeared too. No hide nor hair of him. Moronis reported to the company the Mercurian trading concession, and they call me. Something, I think, is deaf.

I definitely rotten. Yes, sir. I guess I needn't tell you. The Colonel went on, that you have to use tact. People don't seem to appreciate the falls. Wild with the lousy politicians begrudging every cent we get and a bunch of suspicious foreign powers

afraid we'll get too good. Yeah, I know. Tact. That's my motto. No rough stuff. He saluted. turned on his heel. Just a minute.

The Colonel had arisen. He was a fine, ascetic type of man. He held out his hand. Goodbye, O'Lear. Watch yourself. When O'Lear had taken his matter-of-fact departure, the Colonel ran his fingers through his widening hair. In the past several months,

he sent five of his best men on dangerous missions, missions requiring tact, courage, and so it seemed very much luck. and only two of the five had come back. In those days, the interplanetary flying police did not enjoy the tremendous prestige it does now. The mere presence of a member of the force is enough in these humdrum days of interplanetary law and order to quell the most serious disturbance anywhere in the solar system. But it was not always thus.

This astounding prestige had to be earned with blood and courage, in many a desperate and lonely battle. It had to be snatched from the dripping jaws of death. O'Lei checked over his flying ovoid, got his bearings from the port astronomer, said his coordinate navigator, and shoved off. Two weeks later, he plunged into the thick, misty atmosphere on the dark side of Mercury. Ancient astronomers had long suspected that Mercury always presented the same side to the sun, but they were ignorant that the little planet had water and air.

Its sunward side is a dreary, sterile, hot and hostile desert. Its dark side is warm and humid, and resembles to some extent the better-known jungles and swamps of Venus. But it has a favoured belt, some hundreds of miles wide around its equator, where the enormous sun stays perpetually in one spot on the horizon. Sunward is the blinding glare of the desert, on the dark side, enormous banks of lowering clouds. On the dark margin of this belt are the ringstorms, violent thunderstorms that never cease.

They are the source of the mighty rivers which irrigate the tropical habitable belt and plunge out, boiling far into the desert. O'Lear's little ship passed through the ringstorms, and he didn't take over the controls until he recognised the familiar mark of the trading company, a blue comet on the aluminum roof of one of the larger buildings. Visibility was good that day, but despite the unusual clarity of the atmosphere, there was a suggestion of the sinister about the lifeless scene, the vast, irresistible river, the riotously coloured jungle roof. The vastness of nature dwarfed man's puny work. One horizon flashed incessantly with livid lightning, the other was one blinding blaze of the nearby sun, and almost lost below in the savage landscape was man. symbol of possession a few metal sheds in a clear fenced space of a few acres a lear cautiously checked speed skimmed over the turbid surface of the great river and set her down on the ground within the compound with his pencil-like ray tube in his hand he stepped out of the hatchway a mercurian native came out of the residence his hands together in the peace sign for the benefit

of earth lubbers whose only knowledge of mercury is different derived from the teleview screen it should be explained that macureans are not human even if they do slightly resemble us and they hatch from eggs pass one life phase as frog-like creatures in their rivers and in the adult stage turn more human in appearance but their skin remains green and fish-belly white there's no hair on their warty heads their eyes have no lids and have a particular dead staring look when they sleep and they carry a peculiar and a fishy odor with them at all times this Maccurian looked at O'Lear seemingly without interest whereas Maronis the officer inquired Maronis the native piped in English inside

he's busy all right I'm coming in he's busy yeah move over though the native was a good six inches taller than O'Lear he stepped aside when the officer had pushed him. Men and Maccurians had a way of doing that when they looked into those colourless eyes. They were not as flammatic as the face. Moronis was sitting in his office. Well, I'm here, O'Lear announced, helping himself to a chair. Yes, he said, Sowley. Who invited you? O'Lear looked at the factor levelly, appraising him, a big fat man. but the fat was well distributed saturnine face dark hair dark and bristly

beards the kind that thrived where other men became weak and fever-ridden also to judge by his present appearance an unpleasant companion and a nasty enemy well I don't see what difference it makes to you only answered in his own good time but the company invited me oh they would Maronis growled. His eyes flickered to the door, and, quick as a cat, O'Lear leapt to one side, his ray pencil in his hand. Moronis hadn't moved. Then the door stood the native, motionless and without expression. Moronis laughed nastily. Kind of jumpy, eh? What is it, Nagil? Nogil burst into a burbling succession of native phrases, which O'Lear had some difficulty following.

Nagil wants you to move your ship into one of the sheds, but the activator key's gone. Yeah, I know. O'Lear assented casually. I've got it. Leave the ship until I get ready, and I'll put it away. Get out, Nargil. The native hesitated. Then on the lift of Moroni's eyebrows, he departed.

O'Lear shifted a chair so that he could watch both Moronis in the door. He reopened the conversation. easily well um we understand each other you don't want me here I'm here so what are you gonna do about it morone is flushed he struggled to keep his temper down what do you want to know what happened to the factor who was here before you I don't know the translucent wasn't coming in like it should Samis went out into the jungle for a palava with the chiefs to fight out why and he didn't come back you didn't find out where he went i just told you marone is said

impatiently he went out to see the native chiefs alone of course alone there are only two of us earthmen here well couldn't abandon this post of the wogglese could we not that it made much difference well except for nargill none'll come near and um you know you never ever heard of him again oh damn it no say didn't they have any dumber strappers around than you i told you once i'll tell you again i never saw hide nor hair of him after that all right all right o'ly regarded moronis placidly and so you took the job of factor and radioed for an assistant and when the assistant came he disappeared too. Marone's grunted. He went out to get acquainted with the country and didn't come back. O'Leah marced his close scrutiny of the factor under his idle and expressionless gaze.

He wasn't ready to jump to the conclusion that Marona's uneasiness sprang from a sense of guilt. Oh, guilty or not, he had a right to feel uneasy. The man would be dense indeed if he didn't realize he was in line for suspicion, and he didn't look dense. Indeed, he was obviously a shrewd character. Let me see your lucene. Maronis rose. Despite his bulk, he stepped nimbly. He had the nimbleness of a Saturnian bear, which is great as some of the earlier explorers learned to their dismay. That's the first sensible question you've asked, Moronis snorted. Take a look at our lucine. Have a good look. You have the way of it. You have the way of

across the compound, waved his hand before the door of a strongly built shed in a swift, definite combination, and the door opened, revealing the interior. He waved him in, invitingly. Oh, uh, you go first, O'Lea said. With a sneer, Maronis stepped in. Ah, you're safe, boy, you're safe. O'Lea looked at the small pile on the floor in astonishment. Instead of the beautiful, semi-transparent chips of translusine, the dried sap of a mercurian tree which is invaluable to the world as the source of an unfailing cancer cure, well, there were only a few, dirty, dried-up shavings, hardly worth shipping back to Earth for refining. The full significance of the affair began to dawn on the officer. The translucent trees grew only in this favoured section of mercury, and the Earth Company had a monopoly. on the entire supply.

Justly, for only earth was cancer known, and it was on the increase. That small, almost useless pile on the floor connoted a terrible drug famine for the human race. Moronis' smile might have been a grin of satisfaction

at Orlia's question. Is that all you've brought since the last frader was here? It is, he replied. The last lord went off six months ago, and this here shed should be full to the eaves. They'll be hell to pay. Well, it may not be tactful, Olerimant, but if you've got your takings cashed away somewhere to hold up the earth for a big

ransom, you better come across right now. You can't get away with that fellow. You should have close to six million dollars worth of it, and you can't get away. You just can't. At this, Moronis controlled his anger with some effort. "'Ah, like any dumbstrapper, you've made your mind up, ain't you? Oh, go ahead. Get something on me. Here I was almost set to give you a lead that might get you somewhere. And you're coming off, well, trying to make out I stole the lucene and killed those two fellas, eh? Go ahead. Get something on me.

But not on company grounds, no. You're leaving now. And with that, he made a lunge at the officer, quite besieuble. side himself with rage. O'Lear could have burnt him down, but he was far to experience for such an amateurish trick. Instead, he ducked to evade Moronis' blow, but the big man was as agile as a panther. In mid-air, so it seemed, he changed his direction of attack. The big fist swept downward, striking O'Lear's head, a glancing blow. But the men of the force have always been fighters, whatever their shortcomings as diplomats. O'Lear countered with a strong right of the body thudding solidly, for Moronis's softness did not go far below the surface. The factor whirled

instantly, but not quite fast enough to bar the door. O'Lea was out and inside his ship in a few seconds, slamming the hatch. Ah, tact, he grinned to himself, inserting the activator key. "'Ah, tact is what a fellow needs.' "'The little space-flyer shot aloft "'until the tiny figure of the factor "'stop shaking its fist and entered the residence. "'The post had a flyer of its own, of course, "'but Moronis was too wise to use it in pursuit.

"'Olié considered what was best to do. "'Well, of course, he could have placed Moronis under arrest. "'Still could, but that wouldn't solve "'the mystery of the two deaths "'and the missing loose. scene. If the choleric factor was really guilty of the crimes, it'd be better to let him go his way in the hope that he'd betray himself. Well, he regretted that he'd not kept his tongue under closer curb, but there was no use regretting. Perhaps, after all, he ought to turn back to

pump Moronis for some helpful information. His mind made up. He descended again until he was hovering a few feet from the ground. Moronis, he called. Maronas. He held the hatch open. Maronis came to the door of the residence. He had a tube in his hand, a long-range weapon. Moronus, only declared pompously, I'd place you under arrest. Well, the effect was instantaneous. Maronis lifted the tube, and a glimmering, iridescent beam sprang out. The ship was up and away in a second, lurching and shivering uncomfortably every time the beam struck it in its upward flight. A good few seconds continued impingement, but a miss is as good as a light year.

Miles high, O'Lear looked into his tell ends. Moronis had laid aside his tube and was working with an instrument like a twin transit, plotting the ship's course naturally. O'Lear said his course for the earth, and kept on it for a good 24 hours. We're honest, if he was still watching him, would think he'd gone back for reinforcements. Of course, such an assumption would be incredible now, but that was before the IFP had achieved its present tremendous reputation. Beyond observation range, O'Lear curved back toward Mercury again, and was almost

inside its atmosphere when he made a discovery that caused him to lose for a moment his natural indifference, and to clamp his jaws in anger. The current oxygen tank had become empty, and when he removed it from the rack and put in a new one, he found that someone had let out all of his essential gas. The valve of every one of his spare tanks had been opened. Had O'Lear actually continued on his way to Earth, he would have perished miserably of suffocation long before he could have returned to the Macquarian atmosphere. The officer whistled tunelessly through his teeth as he considered this fact.

The visibility was by this time normal, well that is so poor it would not have been possible to land very close to the trading station. O'Leer was taking no chances. It came down a good three earth miles away. The egg-shaped hull sank through the glossy, brilliant treetops, through twisted vines and was buried in the dank gloom of the jungle. Here it might remain hidden for a hundred years. The twilight of the jungle was almost darkness. There were no landmarks, but Alir made a few small inconspicuous marks on the trees with his knife until he came to an outcropping of rock. He'd noticed the scar-like white of its slashing through the jungle from the air, and used it as a guide to direct his stealthy return to the trading post. His bell chronometer told him it would be about time for Moronis to get up from his night's sleep.

A little discreet observation might tell much. long before he reached the compound only heard the rushing of the great blue river in its headlong plunge to the corrosive heat of the desert and then through the mists he glimpsed the white metal walls of the company sheds he climbed a tree and for a long time watched patiently lying prone on a limb blood-sucking insects tortured him and flat tree lice resembling discs with legs crawled over him inquisitively O'Lear tolerated them with stoic indifference until at last his patience was rewarded. Morones was coming out of the compound. He was alone and obviously did not suspect that he was being watched, but he stepped out briskly. Once in the jungle he walked even faster, watching out warily for the panther-like carnivora that were the most dangerous to man on mercury. O'Lear shinned to the ground and followed cautiously.

Moronis had his ray tube with him, as any traveller in these jungles should. O'Leer could and did draw fast, but a dead trader would be valueless to him in this investigation. So he stought him with every faculty strained to maintain complete silence. Often in occasional clearings where the brown darkness grew less, he had to grovel on the slimy ground, picking up large bacteria that could be seen with a naked eye, and which left tiny, festering red marks on his skin. The trader seemed to be heading for the higher ground, for the path led ever upward,

though not far from the tossing waters of the river. And then, suddenly, he disappeared. Well, he didn't immediately hurry after him. A canny fugitive, catching sight of his pursuer, might suddenly drop to the ground and squirm to the side of the trail, there to wait and catch his pursuer as he passed. So O'Lear sidled into the all but impenetrable underbrush, and slowly, with infinite caution,

wormed his way along. Presently he came to the little rise of ground where Moronis had disappeared. But a painstaking search did not reveal the factor. There were, however, a number of other trails that joined the very faint trail that he'd been following. Now there was a well-defined track which continued to lead up with. With a grimace of disgust, O'Leah again plunged into the odorous underbrush and travelled parallel to the trail. That was well he did so, for several Mercurians passed swiftly, intense so it seemed, in answering to a shrill call that at times came faintly to the ear.

They carried slender spears. Several more Mercurians passed. The growth was thinning out, and O'Lear did not dare to proceed, first. However, from his hiding-place he could discern a number of irregular cave openings, apparently leading downward. They were apparently the entrances to one of the native cavern colonies, or perhaps a meeting place. No earthman had ever entered one, but it was thought that they had underground openings into

the river. As the cape openings were obviously natural, O'Leer conjectured that there might be others that were not used. After an anxious search he found one, narrow and irregular, well hidden under the broad glossy leaves of some uncatalogued vegetation. As it showed no evidence of use, we'll hear unhesitatingly slid down into it. It was very narrow and irregular, so that often he was barely able to squeeze through. The roots of trees choked the passage for a dozen feet or so, requiring the vigorous use of a knife. Bathed in a solid, sweat, his uniform a filthy mass of rags, O'Lear at last saw light. The passage ended abruptly

near the roof of a large natural cavern. Lights glistened on stalactites which cut off O'Lear's larger view, and voices came from below. By craning his neck, the officer could look between the pendant icicles of rock and see a fire burning on a huge oblong block of stone. Figures were sitting on the floor around this block. hundreds of Maccurians. The leaping flames made their white and green faces and bodies look frog-like and less human than usual. But the figure that dominated the whole assemblage, both by its own hugeness and the magnetic power that flowed from it, was not of mercury, but of Pluto.

For the benefit of those who have never seen a stuffed plutonian in our museums, and they are very rare, let me refer you to the pious books still to be found in ancient library collections the ancients personified their fears and hates in a being they called the devil the resemblance between the devil of their imagination and a plutonian is really astounding horns hoofs tail almost to the smallest detail the resemblance is clearly there Our philosophers have written books on the coincidence in appearance of the ancient devil and the modern decadent plutonians. The plutonians were once numerous and far advanced in science, and no doubt they called on the earth many times in prehistoric days, and the so-called devil was a true picture of those vicious invaders, who were somewhat less human than usually portrayed. What was once classed as superstition was therefore a true racial memory. long before our ancestors came out of their caves to build houses plutonians had mastered interplanetary travel only to forget the secret until human ingenuity should reveal it once more

the modern plutonian in that dank cave was over ten feet tall and it's easy to see why he dominated the assemblage his black visage was set in an evil smile his ebony body glistened in the firelight he held a three-pronged spear in one hand and sat on a pile of rocks, a sort of rough throne, so that he towered magnificently above all others. He spoke the Macurian language, although the liquid intonations came harshly from his sneering lips. Ah, he assembled, frog-folk, that ye may hear the decision of your thinking once, he asked. A respectful, peeping chorus signified assent. But in that there was a hint of unrest, even of fear.

Speak, ye thinking one, your commands. Hear me first. An old Macurian, unusually tall, faded and dry-looking. His thick hide wrinkled like crushed leather, rose slowly to his feet and stepped before the oblong stone. His back was to the plutonian, his face to the crescent of chiefs. Ah, the wise one! A twittering murmur went around the assemblage.

here the old wise one my people i like this not began the ancient the lords of the green star have dealt with us fairly each phase they have brought us the things we wanted he touched his spear and a few gaudy ornaments on his otherwise naked body in exchange for the worthless white sap of our trees if we longer offend the lords of the green star A raucous laugh interrupted the Maccurian's feeble voice, and it echoed eerily from the walls of the chamber. Valueless, you call the white sap. It's near the plutonian. You hear me. That sap you call valueless is dearer than life itself to the lords of the green star, for they are afflicted in great numbers with the stinking death they call cancer. It destroys their vitals and nothing.

Nothing in this broad universe can help save them. Save this white sap that you give them. In your hands you have the power to bring the proud lords of the Green Star to their knees. They would fill this chamber many times with the most priceless treasures for the sap you give them so freely. With all the sap, your thinking ones may go to the Green Star itself to rule over its lords. They are desperate. Their emissaries may even now be on the way to be on the way to, beg your pleasure speak thinking ones would you not rule the green star but the chiefs failed to become enthused one of them rose and addressed the plutonian oh lord of the outer orbit for near one full phase have you dwelt among us and well should you know we have no desire for conquest we fear to go to the

green star to rule then let me rule for you exclaimed the plutonian instantly my brothers will abide with you as your guests shall see that you receive a fair reward for the white sap and i will convey your commands to the lords of the green star to this the old wise one raised his withered hands so that the uncertain twittering of voices which followed the plutonian's suggestion subsided i children pipe the feeble old voice the black lord has spoken cunning words but they are false it's plain to see he desires to rule the green star and our welfare does not concern him if so it be that the white sap is of great value to the lords of the green star it is still of no value to us and if the gifts they bring us are of no value to them they are dear to us the plutonians sneered at this

dearer than the paste of strange dreams the startled hush fell among the assembled macureans they looked guiltily at one another avoiding the eyes for the old wise one what is this he shrilled turning furiously to the plutonian have you brought the paste of evil to araboat knowing well the strict prescription of our tribe fool your death is now upon you by the pluton The plutonian only grinned and spread his glistening, black hands in a careless gesture. High overhead, peering through the stalactites, O'Lear instantly understood the plutonian strange power, the paste of strange dreams, a fearsome narcotic of that far-swinging dark planet. More insidious and devastating than any drug ever produced on Earth, it had wrought frightful havoc among many solar races.

The Earth man had opened the lanes, broken the airs, broken the age of the air. or barriers of distance so that the harpies of evil could traffic their poison from planet to planet and so the paste of strange dreams was added to the earthman's burden seize him the evil one shrieked the old chief but the MacGurian sat solemn and silent and the plutonians sneered finally one of the chiefs arose and with an effort faced the old wise one and said the strange dreams a a dearer to us than all else. Do, as he says. The piping voices rose in eager acclamation,

but the old wise one held up his claws, waiting until silence returned. Wait, wait, before you commit this folly, hear the green star man. Many times as he demanded audience, let him come in. It's not permitted, demurred one of the chiefs.

You permitted this being of evil to enter. Let him enter also. He is in the outer chambers now, one of the guards spoke. His face is like the centre of a ringstorm. Let him enter. And so Moronis strode into the room angrily. Blinded by the fire after the darkness of the antechambers. He didn't at first see the plutonian.

He strode up to the ancient chief and glared at him. "'Does the old wise one learn wisdom at last?' he rasped. The ancient shrank away from him, as did the nearer of the lesser chiefs. "'The old wise one thinks less of his wisdom,' he replied wearily. "'Behold!' He pointed to the enthroned plutonian. Moronis started. His hand flashed to his side and came away empty.

Deaf fingers had extracted his ray-tube, but he was a man of calmed. courage, never could it be said to his shame that an earthman cringed in the sight of lesser races. So, it's you, my friend. He snarled in English. The plutonian, accomplished lingrish, replied. As you see, oh, you don't look very happy, Mr. Moronis. Moronis regarded him impassively, his eyes frosty.

That explains everything. He said at last, with cold deliberation. separation. First Samis, then Boyd. Going to finish me next, I suppose. The Plutonian twisted the end of an eyebrow and smiled. Interested in them? What do with their bodies? The Plutonian jerked his thumb carelessly. Ah, the river you call the blue is swift and deep. But before you follow them, there is certain information I wish to get from you. where is the soldier who came to visit you a crafty light came into maronis's face oh he's not far from here and waiting for me o'lea in his cramped hiding-place could not help feeling a warm glow of admiration for maronis's nerve because maronis thought him well on his way to earth nougal what did your master do with the visit

I drove him back to the green star. Nagil said promptly. And the oxygen tanks. Did you empty them? I let them hiss. Nagil's grin was sharkish. News to you, hey, Maronis. Your officer's corpse has probably dropped into the sun by this time.

Tell me, why did you drive him off? Maronis sagged perceptively. to gain a little more time he said truthfully and you i should be blamed and ruined for life i didn't know you were here damn you i hoped to get this mess with the natives straighten up before he'd come back with reinforcements yes well you owe some months of life already your presence here has been more or less embarrassing but i had to let you live or i'd have the whole iFP here to investigate now that you've failed in keeping them from getting interested you may do me one more service the black giant then grinned often wondered at the earthman's prestige all over the solar system even tonight soft and helpless as you are these natives fear you you will therefore be an object lesson in the helplessness of earthmen Moronus was pale but courageous.

With contempt in every line of him, he watched some of the less frightened chiefs, at the command of the plutonian, push aside some of the blazing blocks of fungus on the stone to make room for his body. At last he raised his hand. Frog folk, he cried, If you do this thing, the laws of the green star will come. They'll come with fires hotter than the sun, and they'll blast your job. rivers with a power greater than the thunder of the ringstorms. He'll fill your caves with a purple smoke that turns your bones to water.

Shrill cries of fear almost drowned out his words. All the Macquarians had seen evidence of the dreadful power of the earthmen. They began milling around and then stood rooted by the roar of the plutonian's voice. Lies, oh, lies, he bellowed. See, they are weak as egglets. He stepped down, picked Moronis up by one shoulder, and held him dangling high over the heads of all. Moronis clawed and tore at the brawny arm, but he made a ludicrous picture. Soon the simple natives made a sniffling sound of mirth, and the plutonian, satisfied at last, set him down again.

He tells the truth, the old wise one, climbed to the top of the stone block. The lords of the green star have their power, not in their body. but it is great it's greater far than the frog-folk it's greater than the lords of the outer orbit or they will come even as the surly one has said and great shall be our sorrow it's not too late yet release him release him and deliver to him the white sap seize this evil one and so the feeble fickle minds were being swayed again in a gust of impatience the plutonians stepped down seized the aged chief skinny body in his great black hands and snapped him into it was a rough tearing of cords and tissue and the two halves fell into the fire for an instant the

mercurions were stunned then some of them vented hissing sounds of rage while others prostrated themselves on the floor the black giant watched them narrowly for a moment then turned his attention back to moronis he seen seized him by the arm and drew slowly and irresistibly to him the murder of the old wise one had been done so quickly that o'lea was unable to prevent it had he been able to use his ray weapon he could have burned the plutonian down but it had been bent at one of the narrow turns of the crevice he'd come down so it was that the need for extreme lightness in weapons was rather overdone in those early times and just a little rough handling made them useless So now O'Leah, weaponless except for the service night at his belt, began the hazardous undertaking of climbing among the stalactites to a position approximately above the plutonians' head. This job required judgment.

Some of the stone masses were insecurely anchored and would crash down at the slightest touch. Some were spaced so closely together he couldn't get between them, but others were so far apart it was difficult to get from one to another. Yet he made it somehow, and he made it somehow, unnoticed for all eyes were being turned on the tense drama being enacted below from almost directly overhead he saw moronus being drawn upward you saw the plutonian was saying triumphantly in Macurion you saw me unmake your old fool now you'll see that

a lord of the green star is even softer even weaker moronus in that pitiless grasp turned his face to the hateful grinning visage above him in his last extremity he was still angry you devil moronis shouted you may murder me but they'll get you they will get you who get me the plutonian purred silkily deferring the pleasure of the kill for another moment moronis was having trouble with his breathing his face was red lolling from side to side his eyes rode in agony but suddenly he saw O'Leah unbelieving he relaxed oh I'm seeing things he breathed oh get me persisted the plutonian applying a little more pleasure the IFP Moronis gasped oh you little son of a

O'Leah thought, and then he jumped. He landed a straddle, the neck of the plutonian, which was almost like forking a horse. One brawny arm seized a horn. The other, with a lightning-swift dart, brought the point of the long service-knife to the pulsating black throat. Put him down. O'Lear spoke in the great pointed ear. Easy now. back on his feet moronis began bellowing at the maccurians utterly demoralized they fled pell-mell

but moronis came back and said nothing to tie him up with that's all right or lear replied studiously keeping the knife pointed exactly the right place i'll ride him in how you get going and be tactful when you go through the door or this sticker of mine might slip With extreme care, the Plutonian did exactly as O'Lear had ordered him to. It was necessary to radio for one of the larger patrol ships to take O'Lear's enormous prisoner back to Earth for his trial. The officer testified, of course, and the Plutonian was duly sentenced to death for the murder of the old Maccurian.

Execution by dehydration was decreed, so that the body would be uninjured for scientific study and today it's considered one of the finest specimens extant. In his testimony, however, O'Lear so minimised his own connection with the case that he received no public recognition. It wasn't until some months afterward when Moronis, on leave, rode back with a shipload of translucent, that the whole story came out, emphatically and profanely. O'Lear finally consented to speak a few words for the telephoto news corporation and as he stepped off the little platform deferential hands tried to push him back you haven't

taught them who you are protested the announcer give them your name and rank ah they don't have to do that molyer rejoined keeping on going they know it's one of the force and that's all they have to know Besides, there's a blackjack game going on, and I'm losing money every minute, I'm out of it. The terrible tentacles of L-472. By Sewell Peasley Wright, Commander John Hanson, who the Special Patrol Service, records another of his thrilling interplanetary assignments. Oh, it was a big mistake. I shouldn't have done it. By birth, by instinct, by training, by habit.

I am a man of action. or well I was strange that an old man cannot remember that he's no longer young it was a mistake for me to mention that I'd recorded for the archives of the council the history of a certain activity of the special patrol a bit of secret history which may not be mentioned here and now they insist and by they I refer to the chiefs of the special patrol service that I write of other achievements of the service other adventures worthy of notes Perhaps that's the penalty of becoming old. From Commander of the Booty, one of the greatest of the Special Patrol ships, to the duties of recording ancient history for younger men to read and dream about. Well, that's a shrew blow to one's pride. But if I can in some small way, add luster to the record of my service. It will be a fitting task for a man grown old and grey in that service.

Work for hands too weak and palsied for sterner duties. But I shall tell my stories in my own way, after all they are my stories. And I shall tell the stories that appeal to me most. The universe has had enough and too much of dry history. These shall be adventurous tales to make the blood of a young man who reads them run a trifle faster, and perhaps the blood of the old man who writes them. This, the first, shall be the story of the star L-472. All you know it today is Ibiz.

port of core for interplanetary ships and the source of oak rite for the universe but to me it will always be l 472 the world of terrible tentacles now my story begins nearly a hundred years ago reckoned in terms of earth time which is proper since i am a native of earth when i was a young man i was a sub-commander at the time of the calid one of the early ships of the space patrol we've been caught in Zinia on special orders, and Commander Jameson, after an absence of some two hours, returned to the Khalid with his face shining, one of his rare smiles telling me in advance that he had news and good news. He hurried me up to the deserted navigating room and waved me to a seat. Hanson, he said, I'm glad to be the first to congratulate you. You are now Commander John

Hanson of the special patrol ship Khalid. sir i gasped do you mean that his smile broadened and the breast pocket of the trim blue and silver uniform of our service he drew a long crackling paper you're a commission said i'm taking over the borealis it was my turn to extend congratulations then the burrellis was the newest and greatest ship of the service we shook hands that ancient gesture of good fellowship on earth. But as our hands unclasped, Jameson's face grew suddenly great. I have more than this news for you, though, he said slowly. You're to have a chance to earn your comet hardly. I smiled broadly at the mention of the comet, the silver and signer worn over the heart that would mark my future rank as commander, replacing the four-rate star of a sub-commander which I now wore on my cheney.

"'Tell me more, sir,' I said, confidently. "'You've heard of the Special Patrol-ship Philanus?' asked my late, commander, gravely. "'Hem, reported lost in space,' I replied promptly. "'And the, uh, Dara loss?' "'Why, yes, she was at base here at our last call,' I said, searching his face anxiously. Peter Wilson was second office, or one of my best friends. Why'd you ask about her, sir?

The door loss is missing also, said Commander Jameson solemnly. Although those ships were sent upon a particular mission, neither of them has returned. It's concluded that some common fate has overtaken them. The garlet, under your command, is commissioned to investigate these disappearances. You're not charged with the mission of these other ships. Your orders are to investigate their disappearance. appearance. The course, together with the official patrol orders, I shall hand you presently, but with them go verbal orders. You are to lay and keep the course designated, which will take

you well out of the beaten path to a small world which has not been explored, but which has been circumnavigated a number of times by various ships remaining just outside the atmospheric envelope, are found to be without evidence of intelligent habitation. In other words, without cities, roads, canals, or any other evidence of human handiwork or civilization. Now, I believe your instructions give you some of this information, but not all of it. This world, unnamed because of its uninhabited condition, is charted only as L-472. Your larger charts will show it, I'm sure. The atmosphere is reported to be breathable.

by inhabitants of earth and other beings having the same general requirements. Vegetation is reported as dense, covering the five continents of the world, to the edges of the northern and southern polar camps, which are small. Topographically, the country is rugged in the extreme, with many peaks, apparently volcanic, but now inactive or extinct, on all of its five large continents. And, um, I'm to land there, sir. I asked eagerly. Your orders are very specific upon that point, said Commander Jameson. You are not to land until you've carefully and thoroughly done a recon from above at low altitude.

You'll exercise every possible caution. Your specific purpose is simply this, to determine, if possible, the fate of the other two ships and report your findings at once. The chiefs of the service will then consider the matter and take whatever action may seem advisable to them. Jameson then rose to his feet and thrust out his hand in Earth's fine old salute to farewell. "'Now, I must be going, Hanson,' he said. "'I wish this patrol were mine instead of yours.

"'You were a young man for such a responsibility.' "'But,' I replied, with the glowing confidence of youth, "'I have the advantage of having served under commander Jameson.' "'He smiled as we shook again, and shook his head. Discretion can be learned only by experience, he said. But I wish you success, Hansen, on this undertaking and on many others. Suppliers are on their way now. The crew will return from leave within the hour.

A young Xenian by the name of Deval, I believe, is detailed to accompany you as scientific observer, purely unofficial capacity, of course. He's been ordered to report to you at once. You are to depart as soon as feasible. You know what that means. Oh, I believe that so. Oh, yeah, I'd almost forgotten. Here in this envelope are your orders and your course,

as well as all available data on L472. And this little casket is your comet, Hanson. I know your word with honor. Thank you, sir, I said, a bit huskily. I saluted then, and Commander Jameson acknowledged the gesture with stiff precision. Commander Jameson always had the reputation of being something of a martinet. When he'd left, I picked up the thin blue envelope he'd left me.

Across the face of the envelope, to my mind, jagged and unbeautiful universal script, was my name, followed by the proud title, Commander Special Patrol Ship Carlin. My first orders. I was a small oval box of blue leather, with a silver crest of the service in base relief on the lid. I opened the case and gazed with shining eyes at the gleaming silver comet that nestled in there.

And slowly I unfastened the four-eight star on my left breast and placed in instead the insignia of my commandorship. Worn smooth and shiny now, it's still my most precious possession. Kincade, my second officer, turned and smiled as I entered the navigating room. L472 now registers maximum attraction, sir, he reported, dead ahead and coming up nicely. My last figures, who bleed at about five minutes ago, indicate that we should reach the Gassius

envelope in about ten hours. Kincaid was also a native of Earth, and we commonly used Earth-time measurements in our conversation. As is still the case, ships of the Special Patrol Service were commanded without exception by natives of Earth, and the entire office of personnel held largely from the same planet, although I have had several Zenian offices of rareability and courage. I nodded, thanked him for the report. Maximum attraction, eh? All that, considering the small size of our objective, meant me well much closer to L472 than to any other regular body. Mechanically, I studied the various dials about the room. The attraction meter, as Kincaid had said, registered several degrees of attraction,

and the red slide on the rim of the dial was squarely at the top, showing that the attraction was coming from the world at which our nose was pointed. The surface temperature gauge was normal, internal pressure, normal, internal moisture content a little high. Kincade, watching me, spoke up. I've already given orders to dry out, sir, he said. I'm very good Mr. Kincaid. Well, it's a long trip, and I want the crew in good condition. I studied the two charts, one showing our surroundings laterally, the other vertically. All bodies about us represented as glowing spots of green light, of varying sizes.

The ship itself is a tiny scarlet spark. Everything's ship-shaped, perhaps a degree or two of elevation when we were a little closer. May I come in, sir? broke in a gentle, high-pitched voice. Certainly, Mr. Duval, I replied, answering in the universal language in which the request to be made. You're always very welcome. Deval was a typical xenian of the finest type,

slim, very dark, and with the amazingly intelligent eyes of his kind. His voice was very soft and gentle, and like the voice of all his people, clear and high-pitched. Thank you, he said. I guess I'm over-eager, but there's something about this mission of ours that worries me. I seem to feel—he broke off abruptly and began pacing back and forth across the room. I studied him, frowning. The Zinians have a strange way of being right about such things.

Their high-strung, sensitive natures seem capable of responding to these delicate, vagrant forces, which even now are only incompletely understood and classified. You're not used to work of this sort, I replied, as bluffly and heartily as possible. There's nothing to worry about. The commanders of the two ships that disappear probably felt the same way, sir, said Deval. I should have thought the chiefs of the Special Patrol surface would have sent several ships on a mission such as this. Easy to say, I laughed bitterly. If the council would pass the appropriations we need,

We might have ships enough so that we could send a fleet of ships when we wished. Instead of that, the Council, and its infinite wisdom, builds greater laboratories and schools of higher learning, unless the patrol get along as best it can. It was from the laboratories and the schools of higher learning that all these things sprang, replied Devald, quietly, glancing around at the array of instruments which made navigation in space possible. True, I admitted rather shortly.

We must work together. As for what we shall find upon the little world ahead, we shall be there in nine or ten hours. You may wish to make some preparations. Nine or ten hours? That's Earth-time, isn't it? Let's see. It's about two and a half venerals.

Correct, I smiled. The universal method of reckoning time had never appealed to me. For those of my readers who may only be familiar with Earth-time measurements, an inar is about 18 earth days an a little less than two earth days and an enaro nearly four and a half hours the universal system has the advantage i admit of a decimal division and i found it clumsy always it may be stubborn and old-fashioned but a clock face with only ten numerals and one hand still strikes me as being unbeautiful and inefficient "'Two and a half in our own,' repeated Deval thoughtfully. "'I believe I shall see if I can get a little sleep now. "'I should not have brought my books with me, I'm afraid.

"'I read when I should sleep. "'Will you call me, should there be any developments of interest?' "'I assured him that he would be called as he requested, and he left. "'A decent sort of chap, sir,' observed Kincaid, "'glancing at the door through which Deval had just departed. A student, why nodded, with the contempt of violent youth for the man of gently pursuits the mine and turn my attentions to some calculations for entry in the law. Busied with the intricate details of my task, time passed rapidly.

The watch changed and I joined my offices in the tiny arched dialing salon. It was during the meal that I noticed for the first time a sort of tenseness. Every member of the mess was unusually quiet. Though I would not have admitted it then, I was not without a good deal of nervous restraint myself. Gentlemen, I remarked when the meal was finished. I believe you understand our present mission. Primarily, our purpose is to ascertain, if possible, the fate of two ships that were sent here and who have not returned. We're now close enough for reasonable observation by means of the television disc, and I shall take over its operation myself.

There's no gainsay in the fact that we're not yet. that whatever fate overtook the two other patrol ships might also lay in way for us my orders are to observe every possible precaution and to return with a report i'm going to ask that each of you proceed immediately to his post and make ready and so far as possible for any eventuality warn the watch which has just gone off to be ready for instant duty the disintegrator ray generators should be started and be available for instant emergency use, maximum power, and have the bombing crews ready for standby. What do you anticipate, sir? asked Corey, my new sub-commander.

The other officers waited tensely for my reply. Don't know, Mr. Corrie, I admitted reluctantly. We have no information upon which to base an assumption. We do know that two ships have been sent there, and neither of them have returned. Something prevented that return. We must endeavour to prevent that same fate from overtaking the carlitz and ourselves. Part 2. Rurring back to the navigating room, I posted myself beside the cumbersome old-fashioned television instrument.

Well, 472 was near enough now to occupy the entire field, with a range hand at maximum. One whole continent and parts of two others were visible. Not many details could be made out, though. I waited grimly while an hour. Then two hours went by. My field narrowed down to one continent, then to a part of one continent. I glanced up at the surface temperature gauge and noted that the hand was registering a few degrees above normal. Corrie, who had relieved Kincaid as navigating officer, followed my gaze.

Shall we reduce speed, sir? he asked crisply. To twice atmospheric speed, I nodded. when we enter the envelope proper reduced to normal atmospheric speed order your course upon entering the atmosphere proper and work back and forth along the emerging twilight zone from the north polar cap to the southern cap and so on yes sir he replied and repeated the orders to the control room forward i pressed the attention signal of deval's cubicle and informed him that we were

entering the outer atmospheric fringe thank you sir He said eagerly. I shall be with you immediately. In rapid succession, I called various offices and gave terse orders. Double crews on duty in the generator compartment. The ray projectors, the atomic bomb magazines, and the release tubes. Observers at all observation posts, operators at the two smaller television instruments to comb the terrain and report instantly of out any object of interest.

With the three of us searching, it seemed incredible that any... think could escape us at atmospheric altitude even the two smaller television instruments would be able to pick up a body the size of one of the missing ships Deval entered the room as i finished giving my order strange world deval i commented glancing towards the television instrument covered with trees even the mountains and what i presume to be volcanic peaks they crowd right down to the edge of the water he adjusted the focus lever slightly, his face lighting up with the interest of a scientist gazing at a strange specimen, whether it be a microbe or a new world. Strange, strange, he muttered. A universal vegetation,

no variation of type from equator to polar cap, apparently. And the water, did you notice colour, sir? Purple, why not it? It varies on the different worlds, you know. I've seen pink, red, white and black seas, as well as the green and blue of earth. And no small islands, he went on, as though he'd not even heard me, not in the visible portion at any rate. I was about to reply when I felt the peculiar surge of the car lid as she reduced speed. I glanced at the indicator, watching the hand drop slowly to atmospheric speed. Keep a close watch, d'Aval, I ordered.

You should change our course now to co-examination. home the country for traces of two ships we're seeking. If you see the least suspicious sign, let me know immediately. He nodded, and for a time there was only a tense silence in the room, broken at intervals by Corrie as he spoke briefly into his microphone, giving orders to the operating room. Perhaps an hour went by. I'm not sure. It seemed like a longer time than that, though. Then Deval called out in sudden excitement, his high, thin voice, stabbing the silence. Here, sir, look. A little clearing, artificial, I judge. And the ships, both of them. Stop the ship, Mr. Corrie. I snapped as I hurried to the instrument.

Deval, take those reports. I gestured towards the two attention signals that were glowing and softly humming and thrust my head into the shelter of the television instrument's big hood. Oh, Deval had made no mistake. Directly beneath me, as I looked, was a clearing, a perfect square with rounded corners, obviously blasted out of the solid forest by the delicate manipulation of sharply focused disintegrator rays, and upon the naked, pitted surface thus exposed, side by side in orderly array were the missing ships. I studied the strange scene with a heart that thumped excitedly against my ribs. What should I do? Return and report. Descend and investigate. There was no sign of life around the ships, and no evident.

of damage. Well, if I brought the Khalid down, will she make a third to remain there, to also be marked lost in space on the records of the service? Reluctantly I drew my head from beneath the shielding hut. What were the two reports, Deval? I asked, and my voice was thick. The other two television observers. Yes, sir. They report that they cannot positively identify the ships with their instruments, but feel certain that they are the two that we seek. Very good. Tell them, please, to remain on watch,

searching space in every direction and to report instantly anything suspicious. Mr. Akari, we'll descend until this small clearing becomes visible through the port to the unaided eye. I'll give you the corrections to bring us directly over the clearing. I read the finest scales of the television instrument to him. He rattled off the figures, calculated an instant and gave his orders to the control room while I kept the television instrument

bearing upon the odd clearing and the two motionless deserted ships. As we settled, I can make out the insignia of the ships, could see the pitted, stained earth of the clearing, brown with the dust of disintegration. I could see the surrounding trees very distinctly now. They seemed really similar to our weeping willows on earth, which I perhaps should explain, since I was in the same. it's impossible for the average individual to have a comprehensive knowledge of the flora and fauna the entire known universe is a tree of considerable size having long hanging branches arching from its crown and reaching nearly to the ground these leaves like typical willow leaves were long and slender and a rusty green colour the trunks and branches seemed to be black or dark brown and the trees

grew so thickly that nowhere between their branches was the ground visible "'Five thousand feet, sir,' said Kari. "'Directly above the clearing. "'Shall we descend further?' "'A thousand feet at a time, Mr. Kari,' I replied, "'after a moment's hesitation. "'My orders are to exercise the utmost caution. "'Mr. Deval, please make a complete analysis of the atmosphere.

"'I believe you're familiar with the traps provided for the purpose.' "'Yes. You proposed a land, sir?' "'I propose to determine the fate of those two and the men who brought them here, I said with sudden determination. Deval did not reply, but as he turned to obey orders, I saw that his presentiment of trouble had not left him. "'Four thousand feet now, sir,' said Corrie. I nodded, studying the scene below us.

A great hooded instrument brought it within, apparently, fifty feet of my eyes, but the great detail revealed nothing of interest. The two ships lay motionless. huddled close together. The great circular door of each was open, as though open that same day, or maybe a century before. "'Three thousand feet, sir,' said Kari. Proceed at the same speed, I replied. Whatever fate had overtaken the men of the other ships had caused them to disappear entirely, and without sign of a struggle. But what conceivable fate could that be?' "'Two thousand feet, sir,' said Kari.

"'Good,' I said grimly. "'Continue with the descent, Mr. Corry.' Deval hurried into the room as I spoke. His face was still clouded with foreboding. "'I have tested the atmosphere, sir,' he reported. "'It is suitable for breathing by either men of Earth or Xenia. "'No trace of noxious gases of any kind. "'It is probably rather rarefied,

"'such as one might find on Earth or Zinia at high altitudes.' "'One thousand feet, sir. said Corrie. I hesitated for an instant. Undoubtedly, the atmosphere had been tested by the other ships before they landed. In the case of the second ship, at any rate, those in command must have been on the alert against danger. And yet both of those ships lay there motionless, vacant, deserted. I could feel the eyes of the men on me.

My decision must be delayed no further. We will land, Mr. Corr. I said grimly, near the two ships, please. Very well, sir, nodded Corey, and spoke briefly into the microphone. I might warn you, sir, said Deval quietly, to govern your activities once outside, free from the gravity pads of the ship, on a body of such small size, an ordinary step will probably cause a leap of considerable distance. Yeah, thank you, Mr. Deval. That is a consideration, I'd overlooked. I shall warn the man. We must...

And at that instant I felt the slight jar of landing. I glanced up. Met Corrie's grave glance squarely. Grounded, sir, he said quietly. Very good, Mr. Corry. Keep the ship ready for instant action, please, and call the landing crew to the forward exit. Will you accompany us, Mr. Deval? Certainly, sir. Good. You understand your orders, Mr. Kari. Yes, sir. I then returned his salute and led the way out of the room, Deval close on my heels.

The landing crew was composed of all men not at regular stations, nearly half of the Khalid's entire crew. They were equipped with the small atomic power pistols as sidearms, and there were two three men disintegrator ray squads. We all wore menors, which were unnecessary in the ship, but decidedly useful outside. Oh, I might add that the menor of those days was not the delicate, beautiful thing that it is today.

It was comparatively crude, and clumsy band of metal in which were embedded the vital units in the tiny atomic energy generator and was worn upon the head like a crown. But for all its clumsiness, it conveyed and received thought, and after all, that was all we demanded of it.

I caught a confused jumble of question, I came up and took command of the situation promptly it will be understood of course that in those days men had not learned to blank their minds against the manure as they do today it took generations of training to perfect that ability open the exit I ordered Kincade who was standing by the switch key in the lock yes sir he thought promptly and unlocking the switch released the lever the great circular door revolved back Looking slowly on its fine threads, gripped by the massive gimbals, which, as at last the ponderous plug of metal freed itself from its threads, swung the circular door aside, like the door of a vault. Fresh, clean air swept in, and we breathed it gravely. Science can revitalize air, take out impurities, and replace used-up constituents. But it cannot give the freshness of pure natural air, even the science of today. Mr. Kinggate, we'll stand by with five men. Under no circumstances are you to leave your post until ordered to do so.

No rescue parties, under any circumstances, are to be sent out unless you have those orders directly from me. Should any untoward thing happen to this party, you will instantly reseal this exit, reporting at the same time to Mr. Corrie, who has his orders. You will not attempt to rescue us, but we'll return to the base and report in full with Mr. Corrie in command. Is that clear?

Certainly, came back his response instantly, but I could sense the rebellion in his mind. Kincade and I were an old friend as one of his fellow officers. I smiled at him reassuringly and directed my orders to the waiting man. You're aware of the fate of the two ships of the patrol that have already landed here, I thought slowly, to be sure they understood perfectly. What fate overtook them, I do not know. That's what we're here to determine.

Now, it's obvious that this is a dangerous mission. I'm not ordering any of you to go. Any man who wishes to be relieved from landing duty may remain inside the ship and without reproach. Those who do go should be constantly on the alert and keep information the usual column of twos. Be very careful when stepping out of the ship to adjust your stride to the lessen gravity of this. small world watch this point and then turned to Deval motioned him to fall in at my side let a backward glance we marched out of the ship treading very carefully to keep from leaping into the air with each step 20 feet away i glanced back there were 14 men behind me not a single man of the landing crew had remained in the ship

i'm proud of you men i thought heartily and no emanation from me any minor was ever more sincere. Cautiously, eyes roving ceaselessly, made our way towards the two silent ships. It seemed a quiet, peaceful world, an unlikely place for tragedy. The air was fresh and clean, although, as Deval had predicted, rarefied like the air at an altitude. The willow-like trees that hemmed us in rustled gently, their long, frond-like branches with their rusty green leaves swaying. "'Do you notice, sir?' came a gentle thought from Deval, an emanation that could hardly have been perceptible to the men behind us. There is no wind, yet the trees are swaying and rustling. I glanced around, startled. I hadn't noticed the absence of a breeze.

I tried to make my response reassuring. There's probably a breeze higher up. It doesn't dip down into this little clearing, I ventured. at any rate it's not important these ships are what interests me what will we find there we shall soon know replied deval here's the door loss the second of the two was it not yes i came to a halt beside the gaping door there was no sound from within no evidence of life there no sign that men had ever crossed that threshold save that the whole fabric was the work of man's hands mr Deval and I will investigate the ship. With two of you men, I directed. The rest of the detail will remain on guard and give the alarm at the least sign of any danger.

You first two men, follow us. The indicated man nodded and stepped forward. There, yes sirs, came surging through my manure like a single thought. Cautiously, with Deval at my side and the two men at our backs, we stepped over the high threshold into the interior. of the doork. Part three. The eton tubes overhead

made everything as light as day, and since the door loss was a sister ship of my own calliate, they had not the slightest difficulty in finding my way about. There was no sign of a disturbance anywhere. Everything was in perfect order. From the evidence, it would seem

that the officers and men of the Dorlos had deserted the ship of their own accord and then failed to return. "'Well, nothing of value here,' I commented to Deval. "'We might as well.' There was a sunk commotion from outside the ship. St startled shouts rang through the hollow hull, and a confused medley of excited thoughts came pouring in.

With one accord, the four of us dashed to the exit. Deval and I in the lead. At the door we paused, following the stricken gaze of the men grouped in a rigid knot just outside. Oh, some forty feet away was the edge of the forest that hemmed us in. A forest that was now lashing and writhing as though in the grip of some terrible hurricane, trunks bending and whipping, long branches writhing, curling, lashing out. "'Trew the men, sir!' shouted a non-commissioned officer of the landing crew as we appeared

in the doorway. In his excitement he forgot his menor, and resorted to the infinitely slower but more natural speech. some sort of insect came buzzing down like an earthbebe but larger one of the men slapped it and jumped aside forgetting the low gravity here well he shut into the air and another of the man made a grab for him they both went sailing into the trees look but i had already spotted the two men the trees had them in their grip long tentacles curled around them a dozen of the great willow-like growth apparently fighting for possession of the prizes. And all around, far out of reach, the trees of the forest were swaying restlessly, their long, pendulous branches, like tentacles, lashing out hungrily. The race, sir, snapped the thought from Deval, like a flash of lightning. Concentrate the beams, strike at the trunks. Right. My orders emanated on the heels of the thought more quickly than

one word could have been uttered. The six men who operate were, the disintegrator rays were stung out of their startled immobility and a soft hum of the automatic power generators deepened strike of the trunks of the trees beams narrowed to a minimum action at will the invisible rays swept long gashes into the forest as the trainer squatted behind their sights directing their long gleaming tubes branches crashed to the ground suddenly motionless thick brown dust dropped heavily A trunk, shortened by six inches or so, dropped into its stub and fell with a prolonged sound of rending wood. The trees against which it had fallen tugged angrily at their trapped tentacles. One of the men rolled free, staggered to his feet and came lurching toward us.

Trunk after trunk dropped onto its severed stub and fell among the lashing branches of its fellows. The other man was caught for a moment in a mass of dead and motionless wood, but a cunningly directed ray dissolved the entangling branches around him and he lay there free but unable to arise the rays played on ruthlessly

the brown heavy powder was falling like greasy soot trunk after trunk crashed to the ground slashed into fragments right cease action I ordered and instantly the eager whine of the generators softened to a barely discernible hum

two of the men under orders raced out to the injured man, while the rest of us clustered around the first of the two to be freed from the terrible tentacles of the trees. His menorah was gone. His tight-fitting uniform was in shreds and blotched with blood. There was a huge crimson world across his face, and blood drips slowly from the tips of his fingers. God! he muttered unsteadily, as kindly arms lifted him with eager tenderness. They're alive like snakes. and they're hungry take him to the ship i ordered he used to receive treatment immediately i turned to the detail that was bringing in the other victim the man was unconscious and moaning but suffering more from shock than

anything else a few minutes under the helio emanations and he be fit for light duty as the men hurried him to the ship i turned to deval he was standing beside me rigid his face very pale and his eyes fixed on space. What do you make of it, Mr. Deval? I questioned him. After trees? He seemed startled, as though I had aroused him from deepest thought. They are not difficult to comprehend, sir.

There are numerous growths that are primarily carnivorous. We have the fintill vionnesia, which coils instantly when touched, and thus traps many small animals which it wraps about with its folds and digest through succor-like growths. On your own earth there are, we learn, hundreds of varieties of insectivorous plants, the Venus flytrap, known otherwise as Dionia musculpola, which has a leaf hinged in the median line with teeth-like bristles. The two sections of the leaf snapped together with considerable force when an insect alights upon the surface,

and the soft portions of the catch are digested by the plant before the leaves open again. The pitcher plant is another native of earth, and several varieties of it are found on zinia. and at least two other planets. It traps its game without movement, but is nevertheless insectivorous. You have another species on Earth it is, or what was very common. The mimosa pudica.

Perhaps you know it as the sensitive plant. Doesn't trap insects, but it has a very distinct power of movement, and is extremely irritable. So it's not at all difficult to understand a carnivorous tree, capable of violent and powerful motion. This is undoubtedly what we have here, a decidedly interesting phenomena, but not difficult to comprehend. Well, it seems like a long explanation as I recorded here, but emanated as it was, it took but an instant to complete it. Mr. Deval went on without a pause. I believe, however, that I have discovered something far more important.

How is your menorah adjusted, sir, but minimum? Turn it to maximum, sir. I glanced at him curiously, but obeyed. And new streams of thought poured in upon me. Kincaid, the guard at the exit, and, well, something else. I blanked out Kincaid and the man, feeling DeVar's eyes searching my face. There was something else. Something...

I focused on the dim, vague aminations that came to me from the circlet of my menor. And gradually, like an object seen through heavy mist, I perceived the message. Wait, wait, we're coming through the ground. The trees disintegrate them, all of them, all you can reach. But not the ground, not the ground. Peter, I shouted, turning to Deval. That's Peter Wilson, second officer of the Doros. DeVar nodded, his dark face alike. Let's see if we can answer him, he suggested, and we concentrated all of our energy on a single thought. We understand. We understand.

The answer came back instantly. Thank God. Sweep them down, Hanson, every tree. Kill them. Kill all of them. Kill them. The emanation fairly shook with hate. We're coming to the clearing.

Wait. While you wait, use your razor. upon those accursed hungry trees. Grimly and silently we hurried back to the ship, Deval the savant, snatching up specimens of earth and rock here and there as he went. The disintegrator rays of the portable projectors were no more than toys compared with the mighty beams the Khalid was capable of projecting, with her great generators to supply power. Even with the beams narrowed to the minimum, they cut a swath a yard or more in diameter, and their range was tremendous. Although

working rather less rapidly as the distance and power decreased, they were effective over a range of many miles. From their blasting beams the forest shriveled and sank into tumble chaos. A haze of brownish dust hung low over the scene, and I watched with a sort of awe. It was the first time I'd ever seen the rays at work on such wholesale destruction. The startling thing became evident soon after we began our work. This world which we had thought to be void of animal life proved to be teeming with it. From out of the tangle of broken and harmless branches, thousands of animals appeared. The majority of them were quite large, perhaps the size of full-grown hogs, which earth

animal they seemed to resemble, save that they were a dirty yellow colour and had strong, heavily gawed feet. These were the largest of the animals. There were myriads of smaller ones, all of them pale or neutral in colour, and apparently unused to such strong light, for they ran blindly, while seeking shelter from the universal confusion. Still the destructive beams kept about their work, until the scene had changed utterly. Instead of resting in the clearing, the collage was now in the midst of a tangle of fallen,

wilting branches that stretched like a great still sea as far as the eye could see. "'Sease action,' I ordered suddenly. "'I'd seen all thought I'd seen, "'a human figure moving in the tangle not far from the edge of the clearing. "'Cory relayed the order, and instantly the rays were cut off. "'My menor, free from the interference of the great atomic generators of the Khalid, "'eminated the moment the generators ceased functioning. "'Inough, answer. Cut the rays. We're coming.

"'We've ceased action. Come on now.' I hurried to the still-open exit. Kincade and his guards were staring at what had been in the forest. They were so intent that they didn't notice I'd joined them, and no wonder. A file of men were scrambling over the debris, gaunt men with dishevelled hair, practically naked, covered with dirt and the greasy brown dust of the disintegrator ray. In the lead, hardly recognisable, his manure, awry upon his tangled locks, was Peter Wilson. "'Wilson!' I shouted.

And in a single great leap I was at his side, shaking his hand, one arm about his scarred shoulders, laughing and talking excitedly, all in the same breath. "'Wilson, tell me, in God's name, what has happened?' He looked up at me with shining happy eyes, deep in black sockets of hunger and suffering. "'The part that counts,' he said hoarsely, "'is that you're here, and we're here with you.'

my men need rest and food not too much food at first but we are starving i'll give you the story of as much of it as i know while we eat i sent my orders ahead for every man of that pitiful crew of survivors there were two eager men of the carlid's crew to minister to them in the little dining salon of the office's mess wilson gave us the story while he ate slowly and carefully keeping his ravenous hunger in check That's a weird sort of story, he said. I'll cut it as short as I can. I'm too weary for details. The door loss, as I suppose you know, was ordered to L-472 to determine the fate of the phyllis, which had been sent here to determine the feasibility

of establishing a supply place here for a new interplanetary shipline. It took us nearly three days, Earth time, to locate this clearing and the phyllis, and we grounded the door loss immediately. Our commander, you probably know him Hansen, David McClellan, a big red-faced chap. I nodded, and Wilson continued. Oh, Commander McClellan was a caloric person, as courageous a man has ever wore the blue and silver of the service, and very thoughtful of his men.

We had a bad trip. Two swarms of meteorites had worn our nerves thin, and a faulty part in the air purifying apparatus had nearly done us in. While the exit was being unsealed, he gave the interior crew permission to go off duty. He had some fresh air, with orders, however, to remain close to the ship under my command. Then, with the usual landing crew, he started for the filament. He forgotten, under the stress of the moment, that the force of gravity would be very small on a body no larger than this. The result was that as soon as they hurried out of the ship, away from the influence of our own gravity

pads. They hurled into the air in all directions. Wilson paused, and several seconds passed before he could go on. Well, the trees, I suppose you know some about them, reached out and swept up three of them. Oh, McClellan and the rest of the landing crew rushed to their rescue. They were caught up, man. Oh, God, I can see them, I can hear them even now. I couldn't stand there and see that happen to them. With the rest of the crew behind me, we rushed out, armed with only our atomic pistols. We didn't dare use the rays. A dozen men caught up everywhere in those hellish tentacles.

I don't know what I thought we could do. I knew only that I must do something. Our leaps carried us over the tops of the trees that were fighting for the, for the bodies of McClellan and the rest of the line crew. I saw then, when it was too late, there was nothing we could do. The trees had done their work. They were feeding. Perhaps that's why we escaped.

We came down in a tangle of whipping branches. Several of my men were snashed up. The rest of us saw how helpless our position was, and there was nothing we could do. We saw too that the ground was literally honeycombed, so we dove down these burrows, out of the reach of the trees. There were 19 of us that escaped. I can't tell you how we lived, but I wouldn't if I could.

The burrows had been dug by the pig-like animals that the trees live upon, and they led eventually to the shore where there was water, got horrible, bitter stuff, but not salty, and apparently not poisonous. We lived on these pig-like animals, and we learned something of their way of life. The trees seemed to sleep, or at least become inactive at night. Unless they're touched, do they lash out with their tentacles. At night the animals feed, largely upon the large, soft fruit of these trees. Of course, large numbers of them make a fatal step each night, but they are prolific,

and their ranks don't suffer. Well, of course, we try to get back to the clearing and the door loss, first by tunneling. Well, that was impossible we found, because the rays used by the filinous in clearing a landing place had acted somewhat upon the earth beneath, and it turned to powder. Our burrows fell in upon us fast and then we could dig them out. Two of a man lost their lives that way. Then we tried creeping back by night, but we couldn't see as can the other animals here, and we quickly found out it was suicide to attempt such tactics. Two more of the men were lost in that fashion, and that left fourteen of us. We decided then to wait. He knew there'd be another ship along sooner or later. Luckily one of the men had somehow retained.

is manure and we treasured that as we treasured our lives today when deep in our runways beneath the surface we felt hurt the crashing of the trees we knew the service had not forgotten us so i put on the manure i think you know the rest now gentlemen there were 11 of us left here we are on this left of the door lost group we found no trace of any survivor of the philinas unaware of the possibility of danger, they were undoubtedly all victims of the trees. Wilson's head dropped forward on his chest. He straightened up with a start and an apologetic smile. I believe, Hansen, he said slowly, I barely get a little rest. They slump forward on the table in the death-like sleep of utter exhaustion. There the interesting part of the story ends.

The rest is history, and there's too much dry history in the universe already. Devar wrote three great volumes on L-472, or Ibid as it's called now. One of them tells in detail how the presence of constantly increasing quantities of volcanic ash robbed the soil of that little world of its vitality, so that all forms of vegetation except the one became extinct, and how through a process of development and evolution those trees became carnivorous. The second volume is a learned discussion of the tree itself. It seems that a few specimens were spared for study, isolated on a peninsula on one of the continents,

and turned over to deval for observation and dissection. All I can say for the book is that it's probably accurate. Certainly it's neither interesting nor comprehensible. And then, of course, there is his treatise on Ocrite. How he happened to find the Oar, the probable amount available on Eighty. or Aibit, if you prefer, and an explanation of his new method of refining it. I saw him frantically gathering specimens while we were getting ready to leave, but it wasn't until after we'd departed that he mentioned what he'd found.

I have a set of these volumes somewhere. Deval autographed them and presented me with them. They established his position, I understand, in this world of science, and of course the discovery of this new source of Oakwright was a tremendous find for the whole universe. Interplanetary transportation wouldn't be where it is today if it weren't for this inexhaustible source of power. And yes, Deval became famous and very rich. I received the handshakes and the gratitude of the eleven men we rescued, and exactly nine words of commendation from the chief of my squadron.

You are a credit to the service, Commander Hanson. Well, perhaps, to some who read this, it will seem that Deval fared better than I. But to men who have known the comradeship of the outer space, the heartfelt gratitude of eleven friends is a precious thing. And to any man who has ever worn the blue and silver uniform of the special patrol service, those nine words from the chief of squadron will sound strong.

Chiefs of squadrons in the special patrol service, at least in those days, gave scant praise. But it might be different in these days of soft living and political pull. In tonight's story, Dr. Bird and his friend Kahn's unravel another criminal web of scientific mystery. The Black Lamp by Captain S. P. Meek. The clue, Kahn's, said Dr. Bird slowly, lies in those windows. Operative Kans of the United States Secret Service shook his head

before he glanced at the windows of the famous scientist's private laboratory on the top floor of the Bureau of Standards. I usually defer to your knowledge, Doctor, he said, but this time I think you're off on the wrong foot. If the thieves came in through the windows, what was their object in cutting that hole through the roof? The marks are very plain, and they indicate that the hole was cut in some manner from the inside. Dr. Bird smiled enigmatically. That is too evident for discussion, he replied. I grant you that the thieves entered from the roof through that hole. After they'd secured their booty, they left by the same route.

I presume that you've noticed the marks on the roof were an aircraft of some sort, probably a helicopter, landed and then took off. A much greater question is that of what they did before they landed and cut the hole. Don't follow your reasoning, doctor. Carnes, that hole was cut through the roof with a heavy saw. In cutting it, the workers dislodged quite a little plaster, which fell to the floor and must have made a great deal of noise. Why wasn't that noise heard?

Well, it was heard. The watchman heard it, but knew that Lieutenant Breslau was working here, and he thought he'd made the noise. Well, surely, but why didn't Breslow hear it? How do we know that he didn't? He was taken to Walter Reed Hospital, this morning with his mind an absolute blank and his tongue paralyzed he must have seen the thieves and they treated him in some way to ensure his silence when he's able to talk if he ever is he'll probably

give us a good description of him dr bird shook his head oh too thin khanie oh dear he says reslo is a very intelligent young man he was perfectly normal when i left him shortly after midnight last night he was working alone in here on a device of the utmost military importance On the desk is a push button which sets ringing a dozen gongs in the building. Surely a man of that type would have had sense enough when he saw or heard intruders cutting a hole through the roof to sound an alarm which would have brought every watchman on the grounds to his assistance. He must have been knocked out before the halt was started, probably before the helicopter's

landing. How? Gas of some sort? Well, the windows were all closed and locked and I've already ascertained. that the gas and water lines have not been tampered with gas won't penetrate through a solid roof in sufficient concentration to knock out a man like that it was something more subtle than gas what was it i don't know yet the clue to what it was lies as i told you in those windows cars moved over and surveyed the windows closely i see um nothing unusual about them except that they need washing rather

badly. Well, they were washed last Friday, but they do look rather dirty, don't they? Suppose you take a rag and some scouring soap and clean up a pain. The detective took the preferred articles and started his task. He wet a pane of glass, rubbed up a thick leather of scouring soap, and applied it and rubbed vigorously. With clear water, he washed the glass and then gave an exclamation of astonishment and examined it more closely. This isn't dirt, doctor. He cried. The glass seems to be fogged. Dr. Bird chuckled.

So it seems, he admitted. Now look at the rest of the glass around the laboratory. Cars looked around and then walked to a table littered with apparatus and examined a dozen pieces carefully. It's all fogged in exactly the same way, Doctor, he said. The only piece of clear glass in the room is that piece of plate glass on your desk. Dr. Bird picked up a hammer. and struck the plate on his desk a sharp low.

Kahn's ducked instinctively, but the hammer rebounded harmlessly from the plate. This isn't glass, Kans, said the doctor. That plate is made of vitroline, a new product which I have developed. It looks like glass, but it has entirely different properties. It's of enormous strength and is quite insensitive to shock. There's one most peculiar property.

while ultraviolet and longer rays will penetrate it quite readily. It's a perfect screen for x-rays and other rays of shorter wavelength. It appears to be the only piece of transparent substance in my laboratory which has not been fogged, as you call it. Does short waves fogged last, doctor? Oh, not as far as I know at present. But you must remember that very little work has been done with the short wavelengths. In the vast range of waves whose lengths lie between zero and that of the X-rays, Only a few points have been investigated and definitely plotted.

There may be in that range a wavelength which will fog glass. Well, then your theory is that some sort of ray machine was put in operation before the helicopter landed. It's too early to attempt any theorizing cards. Let us confine ourselves to the known facts. Lieutenant Breslau was normal at midnight and was working in this room. Sometime between then and seven this morning, he underwent certain mental and physical. physical changes which prevent him from telling us what he observed. During the same period, a hole was cutting the roof and things of great importance stolen. At the same time, all the glass

in the laboratory became semi-opake. The problem is to determine what connection there is between the three events. I'll handle the scientific end here, but there is some outside work to be done, and that'll be your share. Give your orders, doctor, said the detective briefly. To understand what I'm driving at, I'll have to tell you what's been stolen. Naturally, this is highly confidential. Some rumours have leaked out as to my experiments with radite, as I've named the new radium-containing disintegrating explosive on which I've been working. But no one short of the Secretary of War on the Chief of Ordinance,

and certain of their selected subordinates knows that my experiments have been successful, and that the United States is in a position to manufacture Radite in the United States. almost unlimited quantities from the pitch-blend ore deposits of Wyoming and Nevada. The effects of radite will be catastrophic on the unfortunate victim on whom it is first used. The only thing left to do was to develop a gun from which radite shells could be fired with safety and precision. Ordinary propellant powders are too variable for this purpose. But I found that radii-be, one form of my new explosive, can be used for propelling the shells from a gun. The ordinary gun will let me be able to be able to be.

only two or three rounds due to the erosier action of the radar charge on the barrel, an ordinary ordinance is heavier and more cumbersome than is necessary. When this was found to be the case, the chief of ordinance detailed Lieutenant Breslau, the army's greatest expert on gun design, to work with me in an attempt to develop a suitable weapon. Breslow is a wizard at that sort of work, and has made a miniature working model of a gun with a vitreline-barrel which is capable of being fired with a miniature shell. The gun will stand up under the repeated firing of radite charges, and is very light and compact,

and gives an accuracy of fire control here too far deemed impossible. From this he planned to construct a larger weapon, which would fire a shell containing an explosive charge of two and one-half ounces of radite at a rate of fire of 200 shots per minute. The destructive effect of each shell will be greater than that of the ordinary high-explosive shell fire from a 16-inch mortar, and all of the shells can be landed inside a 200-yard. its circle at a range of 15 miles. The way to the completed gun will be less than half a ton,

exclusive of the firing platform. It is Breslow's working model which is being stolen. Kahn's whistled softly between his teeth. The matter will have to be handled pretty delicately to avoid international complications, he said. It's hard to tell just where to look. There are great many nations who will give any amount for a model of such a weapon. Well, the matter must be handled delicately and also in absolute secrecy, Carnes.

We're not yet ready to announce at the while the fact that we have such a weapon in our armory. It's a plan of the President to have a half-dozen of these weapons manufactured and given a demonstration of their terrible effectiveness to representatives of the powers of the world. Think what an argument the existence of such a weapon will be for the furtherance of his plans for disarmament and universal peace. Public sentiment will force disarmament on the world, for even the worst jinguists could no longer defend armaments in the face of America's offer to scrap these super engines of destruction and to destroy the plans from which they were made. If the model has fallen into the hands of any civilized power, the damage is not irreparable. The public opinion would force its surrender and return.

Oh, it is among the uncivilized powers that our search must first be made. Well, that makes the problem of where to start, more common. complicated. On the contrary, it simplifies it immensely. At the head of the uncivilized power stands one which has the brains, the scientific knowledge, and the manufacturing facilities to make terrible use of such a weapon. In addition, the aim of that power is to overthrow all world governments and set up in their stead its own tyrannical disorder. Need I name it? You refer to Russia? No, not to Russia. The great slumbering giant. who will someday take her place in the sun in fellowship with the other nations,

but rather to Bolsheviki, that empire within an empire, that horrible power which is holding sleeping Russia in chains of steel and blood, is there that our search must first be made. Of course they have no official representative in America. No, but the young Labour Party is as much their accreditive representative as the British ambassador is of Imperial Britain. The first task will be to trail down and locate every leader of that group and to investigate his present activities. I can tell you where most of them are without investigation.

Demberg, Semensky, and Kuroska, are in Atlanta. Fedorovich and Kaspar are in Leavenworth. Sarenov is dead, presumably. I saw, with my own eyes, the destruction of the submarine in which he was writing. Did you see his dead body? No. Neither did I, and I'll never be sure until I do. Once before we were certain of his death, and he bobbed up with a new fiendish device. We cannot eliminate Sarenov. I'll include him in my plans. Do so. Besides, a hypothetical Sarenov, there are half a dozen or more of the old leaders of the gang

are alive and at liberty, so far as we know. They fled the country after the Coast Guard broke up, their alien smuggling scheme, but some of them may have returned. There are also 30 or 40 underlings who should be located and checked upon, and in addition, you must not lose sight of the fact that the new heads of the organization may have been smuggled into the United States. It's no simple task that I'm setting you, Cairns, but I know that you and Bolton will see it through if anyone can. Ah, thanks, Doctor. We'll do our best. Now, if I'm not speaking out of turn, what are you planning on doing in the meantime.

I am going to start Taylor off on an ultra-shortwave generator and try a few experiments along that line. Whereas Law is at Walter Reed, and they're doing all they can for him, but, well, until I can get some definite information as to the underlying cause of his condition, they are more or less shooting in the dark. How are they treating him? By electric stimulations and vibratory treatments, and by keeping him in a darkened room. By the way, Karns, if I am correct in my line of thought,

it would be well to have an extra guard put over Karuska. He was the only real expert in ordinance that the young Labour Party had, and if they have Breslau's model, they all need him to supervise the construction of a gun. I'll attend to that at once, Doctor. Is there anything else? No, not that I know of. I'm going out to Tacoma Park this afternoon,

and have another look at Breslo. But it's too soon to hover any change in his condition. Aside from the time, I'll be out there, You can find me either here or at my home, in case anything develops. I'll get on that job at once, Doctor. Thanks, man. Remember that speed must be the keynote of your work. The telephone bell at the head of Dr. Bird's bed woke into noisy activity.

The doctor roused himself and took down the instrument sleepily. A glance at the clock showed him that it was four in the morning, and he muttered a malediction on the one who had called him. "'Hello,' he said into the receiver. "'Dr. Bird speaking.' "'Doctor?' came a crisp voice over the wire. "'Wake up. This is Karn's talking. "'Something has broken loose.'

"'All trace of sleep vanished from Dr. Bird's face, "'and his eyes glowed momentarily "'with a particular glitter which Karns would at once have recognized "'as indicative of the keenest interest.' "'What's happened, Karns?' he demanded. I telephoned Atlanta this morning and arranged to have an extra guard put over Carusca, as you suggested. The matter was simplified by the fact that he and nine others were confined in the prison infirmary. The warden agreed to do as I told him, and in addition to the other guards, a special man was placed in the ward near Caruska's bed.

At 2 a.m., the lights in the ward went out. Accidentally, what were they put out? Well, they haven't found that out yet. At any rate, they're all out. right now but Carusca and all the other inmates and all the guards at that particular ward have gone crazy the hell you say or not only that also partially paralyzed the description I got over the telephone corresponds exactly with the condition of Lieutenant Breslau as you described it to me here's the most

interesting part of the whole affair the special guard over Carusca was only lightly affected and has already recovered and is in a position to tell you exactly what happened. I got a garbled account of the affair from the warden. Something about a goldfish bowl or something like that. The warden wouldn't take it seriously enough to give me details. I didn't press for them much, or I knew that you'd rather get them at first hand. I certainly would. I'll be ready to leave for Atlanta in less than ten minutes. I expected that, doctor. The car's already on its way to pick you up. I'll meet you at Langley Field where a plane has already been tuned up and will be ready to take off by the time we get there.

Good work, Kans. I'll see you at the field. A car was waiting for Kans and Dr. Bird when the Langley Field plane slid down to a landing at Atlanta. At the penitentiary, Dr. Bird went direct to the infirmary where Kuroska had been confined. As he entered, he shot a keen glance around and gave an exclamation of satisfaction. Look at the windows, Kans, he cried. Karns went over to the nearest window and moistened his fingertip and applied it experimentally to the glass the moisture produced no effect for the glass of the windows was permanently clouded as was that of the doctor's laboratory whatever happened in my laboratory the night before last was repeated here last night with a similar object said the doctor the object there was to steal a gun model here it was to steal a man who could construct a full-size gun from the model and understand that one of the guards escaped the fate which overtook the rest of the the persons in the infirmary.

Ah, not altogether, doctor, replied the warden. I think that his mind is somewhat affected, for he tells a wild yarn and insists on trying to wear a goldfish ball on his head. I have him under observation in the psychopathic wall. Dr. Birch shot a scornful glance at the warden. There are none so blind as those who will not see, he murmured. Yeah, by all means I wish to see him. He went on aloud.

"'Will you have him brought here at once, please?' The warden nodded and spoke to one of the attendants. In a few moments at all, fair-haired young giant stood before the doctor. Dr. Bird pushed back his unruly shock of black hair with his fingers, those long, slim mobile fingers which alone betrayed the artist in his makeup, and shot a piercing glance from his black eyes into the blue ones, which returned the gaze unabashed. "'What's your name?' he asked.

Bailey, sir. You were on guard here last night? Yes, sir. I was detailed as a special guard over number 9764. Tell me in your own words what happened. Don't be afraid to speak out. I'm not going to disbelieve you. And above all, tell me everything.

No matter how unimportant it may seem to you, I'll judge the importance of things for myself. I'm Dr. Bird of the Bureau of Standards. Guards face lit up at the doctor's words. I've heard her you, doctor, he said in a relief tone, and I'll be glad to tell you everything. Ten o'clock last night, I received Carragher, a special guard over number 9764. Carragher reported that the prisoner was somewhat restless and hadn't been asleep as of yet. I sat down about 15 feet from his bed and prepared to keep an eye on him until I was relieved at 6 o'clock this morning.

Well, nothing happened until about 2 o'clock. number nine seven six four was restless as carragher had said toward midnight he quieted it down and apparently went to sleep i was sleeping myself i got up and took a turn around the room every five minutes to be sure that i kept awake and that's how i'm so sure of the time sir dr bird nodded at five minutes to two just as i got up heard a noise outside like a big electric fan sadly like it came from directly overhead and I went to the window and looked out I couldn't see anything I could hear it pretty plainly and then I heard a noise like someone had fallen on the roof almost at the same time there came a sort of high-pish

wine good deal like the noise in electric motor makes when it's running at high speed I thought of giving an alarm I didn't want to stir things up unless I was sure that there was some necessity for it so it started for the door to ask one of the outside guards if he'd heard anything As I turned toward number of 9764, I saw that he'd been sitting up in bed while my back was turned. As soon as he saw that I'd noticed him, he lay back real quick and pulled the covers over his head. He moved pretty quick, but not so quick that I couldn't see that he had something that glittered like glass before his face. Started over toward his bed to see what he was doing, and then it was that the light started to get dim. Go on, said the doctor.

as Bailey paused. His eyes were glittering brightly now. Well, sir, doctor, I don't hardly know how to describe what happened next. The lights were getting dim, but not as they ordinarily do when the current starts to go off. The filaments were shining as bright as they ever did, but the light didn't seem to be able to penetrate the air. The whole room seemed to be filled with a blackness that stopped the light. No, sir, it wasn't like fog. It was more like something more powerful than the lights was in the room and was killing them. It wasn't only the lights which were affected. It was me as well.

Blackness, whatever it was, was getting into me as well as into the room. I couldn't seem to make myself think like I wanted to. Tried to yell to give an alarm. I found that I could hardly whisper. I went toward the bed and I saw a number 976-4 sit up again. He had like a goldfish bowl pulled down over his head. it was evident that it was keeping the blackness away, for I could see him plainly in his eyes for as bright as ever.

The nearer I got to him, the funnier I felt, I began to be afraid that I'd go out. Number nine-seven, six-four, got up out of bed, and I could see him grinning at me through the bowl. He reached up and adjusted that bowl, and all of a sudden I realized that whatever was knocking me out was not affecting him because he had that thing on. Well, I jumped for him with the idea of taking the bowl off

and putting it on my own hand. He saw what I was up to and fought like a cornered rat, but the blackness hadn't affected my muscles. Yeah, I'm a pretty big man, sir, and number nine seven six four is a little runt. It didn't take me long to get the ball off his head and pulled on over mine. As soon as I did that, it seemed to be able to think clearer. While I was sitting on number nine seven six four, I was ready to tap him with a persuader if he started anything, but, well, I didn't have to.

In a few minutes he stopped struggling and laid post. perfectly quiet. Well, the lights kept getting dimmer and dimmer until they went out altogether, and the room became pitch dark. It wasn't exactly as if the lights had gone out, said, well, I seemed to know that they were still there, and were burning as bright as ever, but they couldn't penetrate the blackness in the room, if you understand what I mean. Ah, I think I do, said Dr. Bird slowly. It was a good deal as if you'd seen a glass filled with a pale red liquid and someone had dumped black ink into the fluid and hid the red color. You'd know that the red was still there, but you wouldn't be able to see it through the black. Yeah, that's exactly what

it was like, Doctor. You described it better than I can. Well, at any rate, after it got real dark, I heard a low whistle from the roof. Number nine, seven, six four made a struggle to get up for a moment, then lay quiet again. The whistle sounded again. Then I heard someone call Caruso. Everything was quiet for a while, then the same voice called again, said some stuff in a foreign language I couldn't understand. I kept perfectly quiet to see what would happen. About ten minutes the whole room remained perfectly dark, as I've said, and all the while I could hear that whining noise.

All of a sudden it began to sound in a lower note, and then I could see the lights again, very dimly like the black ink you spoke of was fading out. The note got lower until it stopped altogether. The lights came on brighter until they were normal again. Then I heard a scraping noise on the roof, and the noise I had heard first, like a big electric fan, well, I looked at the clock and it was two-twenty. For a few minutes I wasn't able to collect my wits. When I got up off of number nine-seven-six-four at last, he stared at me as though he didn't

know a thing, and I heaved him back into his bed and ran to the door to summon an outside guard. I could still talk in a husky whisper, but not loud. I wasn't surprised when no one heard me. On my orders were not to let number was nine, seven, six, four out of my sight, and this was an emergency, so I left the ward and found a guard. It was mad again. He was standing on his beat, staring at nothing. When I touched him, he looked at me, and there was the same vacant look in his eyes that

I'd seen in the prisoners. I talked to him in a whisper, but he didn't seem to understand. So I left him and went to a telephone and called for help. Mr. Lawson, the warden, gone here with guards in a couple of minutes, and I tried to tell him what had happened, but I couldn't talk loud, and I was afraid to take the fishbowl off my head. What happened next? Mr. Lawson took me to his office, and on the way we passed under an arc light. As soon as I got under it, it began to feel better. My voice became stronger.

I saw that it was doing me some good, and I stopped under it for an hour before my voice got back to normal. He seemed to clear the fog from my brain, too, and I was able, and I was able, about four o'clock, to tell everything that had happened. Mr. Lawson seemed to think that my brain was affected as well as the others, and he sent me to the hospital. And, well, that's all, doctor. Do you feel perfectly normal now? Yes, sir.

There's no need for confining this man longer, Mr. Lawson. He's as well as he ever was. Clarence, get the Walter Reed Hospital on the telephone, tell him I said to treat Lieutenant Bresla with light rays, rich in ultraviolet. Tell them to give him an overdose of them, not to put goggles on him, keep him in the sun all day and under sun-ray arcs at night until further orders. Mr. Lawson, give the same treatment to the men who were disabled last night. If you haven't enough sun-ray arcs in your hospital, put them under an ordinary arc light in the yard. Bailey, you still got that fishbow?

It's in my office, doctor, said the warden. Ah, good enough. Send for it at once. By the way, you have two more communists here, Denmark and Samansky, haven't you? I think so. I'll have to consult the records before I can be positive. Well, I'm sure that you have. Look the matter up and let me know. The warden hurried away to carry out the doctor's orders, and an orderly appeared in a few moments with a hollow glow made of some crystalline transparent substance.

Despite its presence in the infirmary the evening before, there was no trace of clouding apparent. Dr. Bird took it and examined it critically. He wrapped it with his knuckles and then stepped to the door and hurled it down violently to the concrete floor of the yard. The globe rebounded without injury and he caught it. Oh, vitrolin, or a good imitation of it, he remarked to Carnes. After you get through talking to the hospital, get Taylor on the wire.

There's plenty of loose vitroline in the bureau and I want him to send about 50 square feet of it by a special plane at once. As Kahn's left the room, the warden reappeared. The man are all lying in the sun now, Doctor, he said. I find that we have the two men you mentioned confined here. They're both in Tier A, Building 6. Is that an isolated building? No, it's one wing of the old main building.

On which floor? The second floor. It's a six-story building. Have they been moved there recently? Ah, they've been there for nearly a year. In that case, there'll be little chance of another attack of this sort tonight. In the same time, I would advise you to station extra guards there tonight, and every night until I notify you otherwise.

Caution them to watch the lights carefully, and to give an alarm at once if they appear to get dim. In that case, send men to the roof with rifles with orders to shoot to kill anyone they find there. I'm going back to Washington. I'm going to take Carusco, your number 9764, with me. You'd better have one of the guards in the corridor where Denbush, and Semenzky are. Now, wear this goldfish bowl, as you call it. A lot of plate glass, at least it will look like it, will come from Washington by plane. Cut it into sheets, a foot square, and use surgeon's plaster to make some temporary glass helmets for your man.

I want all your guards to wear them until I either settle this matter, or I'll send you some better helmets. You understand? I understand all right, but I'm afraid I can't do it. The wearing of such appliances would interfere with the efficiency of my man as guards. The brain and tongue paralysis would interfere rather more seriously, it seems to me. In any event, I have sufficient authority to enforce my request. If you are a dull doubtful, call up the Attorney General and ask him. Well, the warden hesitated. If you don't mind, I think I will call Washington Doctor, he said.

I'll have to get authority to turn number 9764 over to you in any event. Call all you wish, Mr. Lawson. Mr. Carnes is talking to Washington now, and we'll have a clear line for you in a few minutes. Meanwhile, get a set of shackles on Carusca and get him ready to travel by plane. He appears to be suffering from mental paralysis, but I don't know how his case will develop. He may go violently insane at any moment, and I don't care to be left in a plane with an unbound maniac. Major Martin looked up from the prone figure of Carusca. His condition duplicates that of Lieutenant Breslau, Dr. Bird, he said.

We received your telephone message this afternoon, and we kept Breslau in a flood of sunlight until dusk, then put him under sun ray lamps. I don't know how you got on to that treatment, but it's having a very beneficial effect. He can already make inarticulate sounds, and his eyes are not quite as vacant as they were. If he keeps on improving as he has, he should be able to talk intelligently in a few days. If you wish to question this man, why not give him the same treatment? I haven't time, Major. I must make him talk tonight if it's humanly possible.

I called you in because you're the most eminent authority on the brain in the government service. Is there any way of artificially stimulating this man's brains so that we can force the secrets of his subconscious mind from him? The Major sat for a moment in profound thought. Oh, there is a way, doctor. He said at length. but it is a method which I would not dare to use. By applying high-frequency electrical stimulations to the medulla or blangata,

at the same time bathing the cerebellum with ultraviolets, it may be done, but, well, the chances are that either death or insanity would result. I would not do it. Major Martin, this man is a reckless and dangerous international criminal. If his gang carries out the plan which I fear they have formed, the lives of thousands, well, of millions may pay. for your hesitation. I will assume full responsibility for the test if you'll make it, and I have the authority of the President of the United States behind me. Well, in that case,

Doctor, I have no choice. The President is the Commander-in-Chief of the Army, and if those are his orders, the experiment will be carried out. As a matter of form, I will ask that your orders be reduced to writing. I will write them gladly, Major. Please proceed with the experiment without delay. Major Martin bowed and spoke to a waiting orderly. The prostrate figure of Carusca was wheeled down a corridor into the electrical laboratory, and with the aid of the laboratory technician, the surgeon made his preparations. The moss lamp was arranged for a flood of ultraviolet over the Russian's cranium, while the leads from a deep therapy x-ray tube was connected, one to the front of Caruska's throat and the other to the base of his brain. Had a signal from

the major, a nurse began to administer ether. I guarantee nothing, Dr. Bird, said the major. The paralysis of the vocal cause may be physical, in which case the victim will still be unable to speak, regardless of the brain stimulation. If, however, the evident paralysis is due to some obscure influence on the brain, it may work. In any event, I'll hold you blameless and thank you for your help, replied the doctor. Please start the stimulation.

Major Martin closed a switch, and the harm of a high-tension alternator filled the laboratory. The Russian quivered for a moment and then lay still. Major Martin nodded, and Dr. Byrd stepped to the side of the operating table. Ivan Karuska, he said slowly and distinctly. Do you hear me? The Russian's lips quivered and an unintelligible murmur came from them. Ivan Karuska, repeated Dr. Berg. Do you hear me?

There was a momentary struggle on the part of the Russian, and then a surprisingly clear voice came from his lips. I do. Who is the present head of the young Labour Party? Again there was a pause before the name, Saranov, came from the lips of the insensible figure. Kans gave a sharp exclamation, but a gesture from the doctor silenced him.

Is Serenov alive? Yes. Is he in the United States? No, he is in London. Is he coming to the United States? Yes. Where? I do not know.

Soon. As soon as we are ready for him. Where is he living in London? I don't know. How did you get word that you were to be rescued from Atlanta? A message was smuggled into me by O'Grady, a guard in our pain. What was the vitreline helmet for? to protect me from the effects of the black lamp.

What's the black lamp? I do not know exactly. Saronov invented it. It gives a black light and it kills all other light except sunlight, and it paralyzes the brain. Did you know that the model of the Breslau gun had been stolen? Yes. What were you going to do after you were rescued from jail?

I was going to make a full-sized gun. we have a disappearing gun platform built into swamps at the juncture of the Potomac and Piscotoway Creek. The gun was to be mounted there, and we would shell Washington and institute a reign of terror. It would be a signal for uprisings all over the country. Is there a black lamp at that gun platform? Yes, the black lamp will kill both the flash and the report. Where did you get the formula for radiance? We got it from one of Dr. Burr's.

assistance his name as he spoke the last few sentences Kuroska's voice had steadily risen almost to a shriek as he endeavored to give the name of the doctor's treacherous helper his voice changed to an unintelligible screech and then died away into silence Major Martin stepped forward and bent over the prong figure hurriedly he tore away the electrical connections and placed a stethoscope over the Russian's heart he listened for a moment and then straightened up, his face pale. I hope that the information you obtained is worth a life, Dr. Berg, he said, his voice trembling

slightly, because it has cost one. It may easily save thousands of lives. I thank you, Major, and I will see that no blame attaches to you for your actions. I only wish that he'd lived long enough to tell me the name of my assistant, who sold me out to Saranov. However, we'll get that information in other ways. "'Garns, telephone lost in her Atlanta "'to slam O'Grady into a cell

"'pending investigation "'while I get Cammed on the wire "'and order up a couple of tanks. "'We're going to attack that gun emplacement at daybreak.' "'The telephone bell in the laboratory jangled sharply. "'Mager Martin answered it and turned to Carnes. "'You're wandered on the telephone, Mr. Carnes.' "'The detective stepped forward and took the transmitter.

"'Carrant speaking,' he said. "'Yeah, oh, Hello, Bolton. Yeah, we have Carusker here, or rather his body. Yes, Dr. Bird is here right now. You've... what? Great Scott. Wait a minute. Dr. Bird! He cried eagerly, turning from the telephone. Bolton is located the Washington headquarters of the Young Labor Party. Dr. Bird sprang to the instrument. Bird speaking, Bolton, he cried. You've located their headquarters? Who's running it?

Stransky, eh? You're on the right track. You used to be Sarenov's right-hand man. Where's the place located? Hmm. Don't seem to recollect the spot. You have it well surrounded? Where are you speaking from?

All right, we'll join you as quickly as we can. Now, keep your patrols out and don't let anyone get away. You then hung up the receiver and turned to Kans. Did you have the car wait? He asked. Ah, good enough. We'll jump for the bureau and pick up the one. the vitrolean laying around loose and joined Bolton. He thinks he has the whole outfit bottled up.

Bolton was waiting as the car rode up and Dr. Bird leaped out. Where are they? demanded the doctor eagerly. In an abandoned factory building about 300 yards from here, replied the chief of the Secret Service. I traced them through New York. We've been watching the place ever since yesterday noon, and I know that Staneski is in there with half a dozen others. No one has tried to leave, since we set our watch funny things happened one funny thing about an hour ago a peculiar red glow suffused the whole building it's died down a good deal since but we can still see it through the windows you tell us what that means oh no I couldn't Bolton but we'll find out how many men have you I have 16 stationed around that's more than we'll need

have only vitroline shields and helmets enough to equip six men Pick out your three best men to go with us, and we'll make a try at entering. Bolton strode off into the darkness and returned in a few moments with three men at his heels. Dr. Bird spoke briefly to the operatives, all of them men who had been his companions on other adventures. He explained the need for the vitreling helmets and shields, without comment the six donned their armour and followed Bolton as he strode toward the building. As they approached, a dull red glow could be plainly seen through the windows, and Dr. Bird paused and studied the phenomenon for a moment.

I don't know what that means, Barton, he said softly, but I don't like the looks of it. Strenesky is up to some devilment or other. I wouldn't be a bit surprised to find out that he knows all about your pickets and is ready for a raid. We'd better rush the place then, muttered Bolton. Dr. Bird nodded agreement, and with a sharp command to his men, Bolton broke into a run. Not a shot was fired as they approached, and the front door gave readily to Bolton's touch. As it opened, there came a grating sound from the roof, followed by the whir of a propeller. Dr. Bird ran out of the building and glanced up.

A helicopter, he cried. They were expecting us and have escaped. He drew his pistol and fired ineffectually at the great bird-like ship, which was rising almost noiselessly into the air. He cursed and turned again to the bird. building. Bolton still stood in the room which they'd first entered. His flashlight showed it to be empty, but from under a door on the opposite side a line of dull red light glowed evilly. With his pistol ready in his hand, Bolton approached the door on hands and knees. When he reached it, he threw his shoulder against it and dropped flat to the floor as the door swung open. No shot greeted him, and he stared for a moment and then rose to his feet. Nothing here but some glass-distance.

statues, he announced. Dr. Bird followed him into the room. As he looked at what Bolton had called glass statues, he gasped and shielded his eyes. God in heaven, he said, those were living men. Before them were three men or, what had been three men. All stood in strained attitudes with a look of horror frozen on their faces. The thing that made the spectators shudder was that their bodies had by some diabolical method been rendered semi-transparent. The dull red light which suffused the room emanated from the three bodies. Dr. Bird examined them closely, being careful not to touch them. Their identity of my treacherous assistant is known, he said grimly, as he pointed at the

middle figure. It was Jerome. What's this? He took an envelope from the hand of the middle figure and opened it. A sheet of paper fell out and he picked it up and read it. My dear Mr. Bolton, round the note. Your methods of tracing and picketing my headquarters are so crude as to be almost laughable. This base has served its purpose and we were ready to abandon it at any event,

but I couldn't resist the temptation to let you almost nab us. The three men whom you will find here are agents who failed in their duty. If you're interested in learning the method of their execution, you might take to heart the words of your colleague, Dr. Bird. The clue lies in those windows. Kahnz glanced at the windows and gave out a cry of surprise. The glass was opaque, as had been the glass in the doctor's laboratory and the glass in the infirmary at Atlanta.

The fogging, however, was much more pronounced, and the opaque glass gave faintly the same red effulgence, which came from the three bodies. What does it mean, Doctor? He asked. I don't know, Karnes, said Dr. Byrd slowly. I foresee that I'm going to have to do a great deal of work on short wavelength soon. It is doubtless the effect of some modification of the black lamp which has done it.

Oh, look out. He leapt to one side as he spoke, drawing Bolton and Karns with him. A panel in the side of the wall opposite the doorway had slid open, silently, and through the opening poured out a beam of fiery red. Full on the three bodies it fell, and then spread out to fill the room. Dr. Bird had drawn the two nearest men out of the direct beam, but one of the secret service men stood full in its pile. In the excitement of entering, he dropped his vitroline shield, and the livid ray fell full on his defenseless body.

As they watched, an expression of horror spread over his face, and he strove to move to one side, but he was held helpless. Slowly he stiffened, and as the ray bored through him, his body became semi-transparent, and the same dull red glow which emanated from the three bodies they'd found began to shine forth from him, too. Bolton strove to break from the doctor's grasp and rushed to the rescue, but Dr. Bird held him with a grip of iron. Too late, he said grimly, chalk up another murder to the archfiend who has committed the others. I don't know that nature of that rain vitrally and may not be an adequate defence against his full force we'd better

get out of here and attack the place from the rear carefully edging their way around the sides of the room the five men made their way out through the door dr bird slammed the door shut behind him and led the way out of the building around to the rear the door loomed before them and he cautiously tried it gave to his touch as he entered and as he set foot on the threshold a terrific explosion came from the interior of the building. Run, he shouted as he led the way in retreat. If that is a radite explosion, it will act for several seconds. From a safe distance they watched.

One corner of the building had been torn off by the force of the explosion, and as they watched the rest of the building gradually collapsed and sank into a pile of ruins. They planned on a visit from us all right, said Dr. Bolton grimly. They had a surprise for us anyway, we jumped. If we went in the front door, that devil's ray was to finish us. And if we went in the back door, the whole place was arranged to blow up as we entered. I only hope that Stoninsky thinks he's got us all and doesn't expect an attack on his next base in the morning. If he doesn't, I think we may give him a rather unpleasant surprise. Of course, that lamp is smashed into atoms

and buried under the debris, but I don't know what other devil's contraptions that ruin holds. Bolton, have your men picketed it and allow no one near it until I get back. I've got to get to a telephone and get a couple of tanks from me and a plane or two from Langley Fields. Two tanks made their way slowly across country. The front of each tank was protected by a heavy sheet of vitrolin while the turrets of the tanks projected the wicked-looking muzzles of 37-millimeter guns. Overhead two airplanes from Langley Field sword, scouting the country.

Dr. Bird and Kahn's rode in the leading tent. It ought to be somewhere near here, unless Kuroska lied, said Kans, as he swept the country with a pair of binoculars. He didn't lie, returned Dr. Bird. It was his subconscious mind that spoke, and it never lies. He spoke of the gun emplacement as being in a swamp, and I have a strong idea that it's a submersible. Of course, it's bound to be well camouflaged, both from land and from air observation. The plane circled around again and again, quartering the air like a pair of well-trained bird-dogs would quarter a hunting field. First high and then low they swooped back and forth, the tanks lumbering slowly along in the same direction. Presently the occupants of the leading tanks saw one of the planes bank sharply and swing around. It dropped to an altitude of only a few hundred feet and turned and went back over the ground it had just crossed. I believe that fellow sees something, exclaimed Karnes.

As he spoke, three green, very lights came from the cockpit of the plane. The tank driver gave a grunt of satisfaction and turned the nose of his vehicle in that direction. The second tank followed. Hardly had they turned in the new direction before the ground began to get soft under their tracks and the heavy vehicles began to sink. The driver of the doctor's tank forced it ahead, but the tank sank deeper in the mire until water flowed in around the river. the feet of the occupants.

I reckon we'll have to get out in war pretty soon, Doctor," said the driver. Dr. Burr grunted in acquiescence. The tank made its way forward a few yards before the engine sputtered and died. The second tank stopped when the first one did, fifty yards behind it. Donning vitriolene helmets and taking vitrioline shields in their hands, the crews of both tanks climbed out into the waist-deep water and gathered around the doctor for orders. a skirmish line at ten pace intervals and cross the swamp, he directed. We may meet with no opposition, but if there is, the more scattered we are, the safer we'll be. You all have

hand grenades as well as your rifles. A murmur of assent answered him, and the line formed and started across the swamp. They'd gone perhaps a hundred yards when three red lights came from one of the planes circling overhead. Get down, cried the doctor, dropping to his knees into the muck. Four hundred yards ahead of him, a concrete platform emerged from the marsh and rose slowly into the air. It was roofed with a dome of what looked like plate glass, but which the doctor shrewdly suspected was vitally. On the base of the platform was two feet above the level of the water, the dome slid silently aside, disclosing two men bending over a tiny gun. Dr. Bird leveled his binoculars. That's the Brisslow gun model that was stolen as sure as I'm a foot,

I, he cried. They must have made some miniature shells and be planning to fire it. Slowly a pall of intense blackness rose from the marsh and enveloped the platform and hid it from view. A winding noise came from overhead, and then a crash like a thunderbolt. The blast of the explosion threw the attackers face down into the swamp, and when they arose and looked back, it was merely a gaping hole where the leading tank had been. The second tank suddenly seemed to rise into the air, and fly into millions of tiny fragments, and a second thunderous blast sent them again to their knees. "'Ah, radite!' bellowed Dr. Bird to Carnes.

Imagine the effect that if there had been a full charge fired from a completed Breslau gun. Watch the planes now. I think they're going to drop a few eggs on them. The black mist cleared as if by magic, and the platform was now in plain view. The big glass dome roll back into place as the two planes swept over at an elevation, of 2,000 feet. From each one a small black cigar-shaped object was released and fell in a long parabolic toward the earth. The glass dome, which had been closing over the gun platform, rolled quickly back,

and a long beam of intense blackness pierced the heavens. First one and then the other of the falling bombs disappeared from view into it, and then the black column faded from view. The two bombs fell with increasing speed, but the dome closed over the platform before they struck. The two hit the dome at almost the same instant, and instead of the blinding crash they'd expected, the watchers saw the bombs rebound from the dome and fall harmlessly into the water. Stymied, muttered the doctor, I wonder what other properties that confounded lamp has. He resumed his advance, Garns and the soldiers keeping abreast of him. When they were within

200 yards of the platform, it rose again and the transparent dome rolled back. A beam of black shot forth over the swamp, searching them out and hiding them from view. First one and then another felt the effects of the black beam. But the vitroline which the doctor had provided stood them in good stead, and, aside from a slight shortening of their breath, none of the attackers felt any of the worse. Come on, men, cried the doctor, as his athletic figure plowed forward through the breast-deep water.

That's their worst weapon, and it's harmless against us. cheering they fought their way toward the platform it sunk for a moment and then rose again as the dome swung back a sharp crackle of machine gun fire sounded and the water before them was whipped into foam by the plunging bullets one of the soldiers gave a sharp cry and slump forward into the water fire at will shouted the lieutenant in command

a crackle of rifle fire answered the tattoo of the machine gun and the sharp ping of bullets striking on the dome could be plainly heard An occasional shock kicked up a spurt of white dust from the concrete, but the machine gun kept up a steady rattle of fire and the soldiers kept their heads almost at the level of the water. There came the roar of an airplane motor, and one of the planes swept over the platform, a hundred yards in the air with two machine guns spraying streams of bullets onto the platform. Two men abandoned their machine gun and crouched under the partially folded back dome as the second plane swept over, and Dr. Bird took advantage of the low.

to advance his party a few yards nearer again the defenders of the platform rushed to their gun but the first plane had turned and swooped down with both guns going and again they were forced to take shelter while the doctor and his force made another advance the second plane had turned and followed the first but the defenders had had enough the transparent dome closed over them and the platform sank back into the march with the shout dr bird led the way forward again The attackers were within a hundred yards of the platform, when it again rose above the surface of the water. The guns had disappeared, but in their place stood an airship. It was a small affair with stubby wings, above which were two helicopter blades revolving at high speed.

No sound of a motor could be heard. The transparent dome rolled back, and like a bullet the little craft shoved into the air, followed by a futile volley from the soldiers. Hardly had it appeared, then the two airplanes bore down on it with machine guns going. The helicopter paid no attention to them for a moment, and then came a puff of smoke from its side. The leading plane swerved sharply, and the helicopter fired again. The leading plane manoeuvred about, trying to get a machine gun to bear, while the second plane climbed swiftly to get above the helicopter and pour a deadly stream of fire down into it.

again in position and swooped down to the attack but another puff of smoke came from the side of the helicopter and there was a thunderous report and a blinding flash in the sky as the smoke cleared away no trace of the ill-fated plane could be seen the helicopter hung motionless in the air as though daring the remaining plane to attack well the plane accepted the challenge and bore down at full speed on the stranger

again came a puff of smoke but the plane swerved and an answering shock came from its side it was above the helicopter and the shell which missed its mark plunged to the ground when it struck there came a roar and a flash and the whole earth seemed to shake the helicopter shot upward into the air and forward both its elevating fans and its propellers whirling blurs of light the airplane followed at its sharpest climbing angle but was helpless to compete with its swifter climbing rival "'He's got away,' groaned Kahn's. "'Not yet, my friend,' cried the doctor, hopping with excitement. "'He isn't safe yet. "'I never told you, but one Breslow gun had been made, and it's on that plane. "'It has deadly accuracy, and is good for fifteen miles. "'Last Lieutenant Dreen at the controls, and Mason at the gun.

"'As he spoke, the plane swung around and made a half loop. "'For a few yards it flew upside down, and then wisconsin. world swiftly. As it turned, there came a sharp report and a puff of smoke from its rear cockpit. High above, the helicopter had ceased climbing and hovered motionless. As the plane fired, the helicopter shot forward like an arrow from a bow, and thereby spelled its doom. Not for nothing did Captain Mason bear the title of the best aerial gunner in the air court. He'd foreseen what the action of his opponent would be and allowed for just such a move. Far up in the sky came a blinding flash in a cloud of smoke.

When the smoke cleared, the sky was empty, except for a little scattered debris falling slowly to the ground. And that's that, exclaimed Dr. Bird, as he finished his examination of the underground laboratory, with which the gun platform connected. The lamp has gone to glory with Breslau's gun model and two of the best brains of the young Labour Party. I'm sure that Staneski was one of those two men,

and I wish the whole whole thing. gang had been on board. Don't you think that this is the end of it, Doctor? Oh, no, Kans, I don't. We know that the real brains of this outfit is Sarenov, and Sarenov is still alive. He probably won't try to use his black lamp again because I'll have a defense against it in a short time, now that I've seen it in action, but he will try something else. The whole object of life to a loyal citizen of Bolshevigia is to reduce the whole world to the barbarous level in which they hold Russia, and they will spare no pains or effort to accomplish it. The greatest obstacle to their success at present is the President of the United States. He is loved and respected by the

whole world, and if he is spared, he will forge the world into a great machine for the preservation of peace and universal goodwill. That would be fatal to Bolshevica's plans, and they will spare no effort to remove him. By the grace of God, we have saved him from harm so far, but until we remove sarin off permanently from the scene i will never feel safe for him what do you suppose they'll try next doctor or that can's time alone will tell the most dangerous game by richard canal off there to the right somewhere is a large island said whitney it's a rather mysterious what island is it rainsford asked Oh, the old charts call it ship-trap Island, Whitney replied. Suggestive name, isn't it?

Sailors have a curious dread of the place. I don't know why. Some superstition. Can't see it, remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through the dank tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick, warm blackness in upon the yacht. You've good eyes, said Whitney with a laugh. I've seen you pick off a moose moving in the brown fall bush at four hundred yards but even you can't see four miles or so through a moonless Caribbean night

nor four yards admitted Reinsford it's like moist black velvet it will be light enough in Rio promised Whitney they should make it in a few days I hope the jaguar ones have come from Purdy's we should have some good hunting up the Amazon great sport hunting the best sport in the world agreed Rainesford. Well, for the hunter, amended Whitney, not for the Jaguar. Don't talk rot, Whitney, said Reinsford.

You're a big game hunter, not a philosopher. Who cares how a Jaguar feels? Perhaps the Jaguar dugs, observed Whitney. They have no understanding. Even so, I rather think they understand one thing. Fear. The fear of pain and the fear of death.

Nonsense, "'Last,' laughed Rainsford. "'This hot weather is making you soft, Whitney. "'Be a realist. "'The world's made up with two classes, "'the hunters and the hantees. "'Luckily, you and I are hunters. "'Do you think we pass that island yet?'

"'I can't tell in the dark. "'I hope so.' "'Why?' asked Rainsford. "'Well, the place has a reputation, a bad one.' "'Cannibals,' suggested Rainsford. "'Ah, hardly. Even cannibals wouldn't live in such a god-forsaken place, but it's gotten into sailor law somehow.

Didn't you notice that the crew's nerves seemed a bit jumpy today? Yeah, they were a bit strange now that you mention it. Even Captain Nielsen. Yeah, even that tough-minded old sweet. We'd go up to the devil himself and ask for a light. Those fishy blue eyes held a look I never saw there before. Oh, I could get out of him was... This place is an evil name among seafaring men, sir.

And he said to me very gravely, Don't you feel anything? As if the air about us was actually poisonous. Now, you mustn't laugh when I tell you this. I did feel something like a sudden chill. There was no breeze. The sea was as flat as a plate glass window. We were drawing near the island then.

What I felt was a mental chill, a sort of sudden dread. Pure imagination, said Rainsford. One superstitious sailor can't take the whole ship's company with his fear. Well, maybe, but sometimes I think sailors have an extra sense that tells them when they're in danger. Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing, with wavelengths just as sound and light have. An evil place can, so to speak, broadcast vibrations of evil. anyhow I'm glad we're getting out of this zone.

Well, I think I'll turn in now, Rainesford. Oh, I'm not sleepy, said Rainesford. I'm going to smoke another pipe up on the after deck. Well, good night then, Rainesford. See you, breakfast. Right, good night, Whitney. There was no sound in the night as Rainesford sat there, but the muffled throb of the engine that drove the yacht swiftly through the darkness,

and the swish and ripple of the wash of the propeller. Rainsford, reclining in a steamer chair, indolently puffed on his favourite brow. The sensuous drowsiness of the night was on him. Oh, it's so dark, he thought, that I could sleep without closing my eyes. The night would be my eyelids. An abrupt sound startled him. Off to the right he heard it, and his ears, expert in such matters, could not be mistaken. Again he heard the sound, and again.

somewhere off in the blackness someone had fired a gun three times Rainford sprang up and moved quickly to the rail mystified he strained his eyes in the direction from which the reports had come but it was like trying to see through a blanket he leapt upon the rail and balanced himself there to get greater elevation his pipe striking a rope was not from his mouth well he lunged for it a short hoarse cry then came from his lips as he realized he'd reached too far and had lost his balance. The cry was pinched off-short as the blood-warm waters of the Caribbean Sea dosed over his head. He struggled up to the surface and tried to cry out, but the wash from the speeding yacht slapped

him in the face, and the salt water in his open mouth made him gag and strangle. Desperately he struck out with strong strokes after the retreating lights of the yacht, but he stopped before he swum fifty feet. A certain cool-headedness had come to him. not the first time he'd been in a tight place there was a chance that his cries could be heard by someone aboard the yacht but that chance was slender and grew more slender as the yacht raced on he wrestled himself out of his clothes and shouted with all his power the lights of the yacht became faint and ever-vanishing fireflies and then they were blotted out entirely by the night Rainesford remembered the shots they come from the right and doggedly he swam in that direction

swimming with slow deliberate strokes conserving his strength for a seemingly endless time he fought the sea he began to count his strokes he could do possibly a hundred more and then Rashford heard a sound he came out of the darkness a screaming sound a sound a sound of an animal in an extremity of anguish and terror. He did not recognize the animal that made the sound. He didn't try to. With fresh vitality, he swam toward the sound. He had it again, and then it was cut short by another noise, crisp, staccato. Pistol shot, muttered Rainsford, swimming on. Ten minutes of determined effort brought another sound to his ears, the most welcome he had ever heard the muttering and growling of the sea breaking on a rocky shore he was

almost on the rocks before he saw them on a night less calm he would have been shattered against them with his remaining strength he dragged himself from the swirling waters jagged crags appeared to jut up in the opaqueness he forced himself upward hand over hand gasping his hands roar he reached a flat place at the top dense jungle came down to the very edge of the cliffs. Oh, what perils that tangle of trees and underbrush might hold for him did not concern Rainsford just then. All he knew was that he was safe from his enemy, the sea, and that utter weariness was on him.

He flung himself down at the jungle edge and tumbled headlong into the deepest sleep of his life. When he opened his eyes, he knew from the position of the sun that it was late in the afternoon. The sleep had given him a new vigor. A sharp hunger was picking a cold. him he looked about him almost cheerfully where there are pistol shots there are men where there are men there is food he thought but what kind of men he wondered in so forbidding a place unbroken front of snarled and ragged jungle fringed the shore he saw no sign of a trail through the closely knit

web of weeds and trees it was easier to go along the shore and rainsford floundered along by the water not far from where he landed he stopped some wounded thing by the evidence a large animal had thrashed about in the underbrush the jungle weeds were crushed down and the moss was lacerated one patch of weeds was stained crimson a small glittering object not far away caught reinsford's eye and he picked it up it was an empty cartridge A twenty-two, he remarked. That's odd. Must have been a fairly large animal, too. The hunter had his nerve with him to tackle it with a light gun.

It's clear that the brute put up a fight. I suppose the first three shots I heard was when the hunter flushed his quarry and wounded it. The last shot was when he trailed it here and finished it. He examined the ground closely and found what he'd hoped to find, the print of hunting boots. They pointed along the cliff in the direction he'd been going. Eagily he hurried along, now slipping on a rotten log or a loose stone, but making headway, night was beginning to settle down on the island.

Bleak darkness was blacking out the sea and jungle when Rainsford sighted the lights. He came upon them as he turned a crook in the coastline, and his first thought was that he'd come upon a village, for there were many lights. But as he forged along, he saw to his great astonishment that all the lights were in one enormous building, a lofty structure with pointed towers plunging upward into the gloom. His eyes made out the shadowy outlines of a palatial chateau. It was set on a high bluff, and on three sides of it cliffs dived down to where the sea licked greedy lips in the shadows. Mirage, thought Rainsford. But it was no mirage he found when he opened the tall.

spiked iron gate. The stone steps were real enough. The massive door with a leering gargoyle for a knocker was real enough. Yet above it all hung an air of unreality. He lifted the knocker, and it creaked up stiffly, as if it had never before being used. He let it fall, and it startled him with its booming loudness. He thought he heard steps within. The door remained closed. Again, Rainsford lifted the heavy knocker and let it fall. The door opened then, opened as suddenly as if it were on a spring, and Rainsford stood blinking in the river of glaring gold light that poured out. The first thing Rainsford's eyes discerned was the largest man Rainsford had ever seen, a gigantic creature solidly made and black-bearded to the waist. In his hand the man held a long-barreled

revolver and he was pointing it straight at Rainesford's heart out of the snarl of beard two small eyes regarded Rainesford don't be alarmed said Rainesford with a smile which he hoped was disarming i'm no robber i fell off a yacht my name is sanga rainsford of new york city the menacing look in the eyes did not change the revolver pointing as rigidly as if the giant were a statue He gave no sign that he understood Rainsford's words, or that he had even heard them. He was dressed in uniform, a black uniform trimmed with a grey astrakhan. I'm Sanger Rainsford of New York. Rainsford began again.

I fell off a yacht. I'm hungry. The man's only answer was to raise with his thumb the hammer of his revolver. Then Rainsford saw the man's free hand go to his forehead in a military salute. and he saw him click his heels together and stand at attention. Another man was coming down the broad marble steps, an erect slender man in evening clothes. He advanced to Rainsford and held out his hand.

In a cultivated voice marked by a slight accent that gave it an added precision and deliberateness, he said, It's a very great pleasure and honour to welcome Mr Sanger Rainsford, the celebrated hunter to my hope. automatically Reinsford shook the man's hand i've read your book about hunting snow leopards in Tibet you see explained the man i am general Zarov reinsford's first impression was that the man was singularly handsome his second was that there was an original almost bizarre quality about their general's face he was a tall man past middle age for his hair was a vivid white but his

thick eyebrows and pointed military moustache was black as the night from which Rainsford had come. His eyes too were black and very bright. He had high cheekbones, a sharp cut nose, a spare, dark face, the face of a man used to giving orders, the face of an aristocrat. Turning to the giant in uniform, the general made a sign. The giant put away his pistol, saluted and withdrew. Ivan is an incredibly strong fellow, remarked the general, but he has the misfortune to be deaf and dumb. A simple fellow, but I'm afraid, like all his race, a bit of a savage. Is he Russian?

He's a cossar, said the general, and his smile showed red lips and pointed teeth. Well, so am I. Come, he said. We shouldn't be chatting here. We can talk later. Now you want clothes. food rest, and you shall have them. This is a most restful spot. Ivan had reappeared, and the General spoke to him with lips that moved but gave forth no sound.

Follow Ivan, if you please, Mr. Rainsford, said the General. I was about to have my dinner when you came. I'll wait for you. I'll find that my clothes will fit you, I think. It was to a huge, beam-ceilinged bedroom, with a canopyed bed big enough for six men that Rainsford followed the silent giant Ivan laid out an evening suit and Rainsford as he put it on noticed that it came from a London tailor who ordinarily cut and sewed for none below the rank of Jew the dining-room to which Ivan conducted him was in many ways remarkable there was a medieval magnificence about it it suggested a baronial hall of feudal times with its ogan panels its high ceiling its vast refectory tables where two score men could sit down and eat about the whole

hall were mounted heads of many animals lions tigers elephants moose bears larger or more perfect specimens rainsford had never seen at the great table the general was sitting alone oh you'll have a cocktail mr rainsford he suggested the cocktail was surprisingly good and rainsford noted the table appointments were of the finest the linen the crystal the silver the china they were eating borsh, a rich red soup with whipped cream so dear to Russian palates. Half apologetically, General Zarov said, We do our best to preserve the amenities of civilization here. Please forgive any lapses. We are well off the beaten track, you know. Do you think the champagne has suffered from its long ocean trip? Not in the least, declared Rainsford.

Who's finding the general a most thoughtful and affable host, a true cosmopol. But there was one small trait of the generals that made Rainsford uncomfortable. Whenever he looked up from his plate, he found the generals studying him, appraising him narrowly. Perhaps, said General Zaroff, you were surprised that I recognize your name. You see, I read all books on hunting published in English, French, and Russian. I have but one passion in my life, Mr. Rainsford, and that is the hunt. You have some wonderful heads here, said Rainsford, as he ate a particularly well-cooked filet mignon. That Cape Buffalo is the largest I've ever seen.

That fellow, yes, he was a monster. Did he charge you? Or hurled me against a tree, said the general, fractured my skull, but I got the brute. I've always thought, said Rainsford, that the Cape Buffalo is the most dangerous. of all big game. For a moment the general did not reply. He was smiling his curious red-lipped smile. Then he said slowly, no, you are wrong, sir. The Cape Buffalo is not the most dangerous big game. He then sipped his wine. Here in my preserve on this island, he said in the same slow tone, I hunt more dangerous game.

Reinsford expressed his surprise. Is there big game on this island? The general knowledge. Ah, the biggest. Really? Oh, it isn't here naturally, of course. I have to stock the island. What have you imported, General?

Rainsford asked. Tigers? The General smiled. No, he said. Hunting tigers ceased to interest me some years. ago. I exhausted their possibilities, you see. No thrill left in tigers, no real danger. I live for danger, Mr. Rainsford. The General took from his pocket a gold cigarette case and offered his guest a long black cigarette with a silver tip. It was perfumed and gave her a smell like incense.

You will have some capital hunting you and I, said the General. I shall be most glad to have your society. But what game? began Rainsford. I'll tell you, said the general. You will be amused, I know. I think I may say in all modesty that I've done a rare thing. I've invented a new sensation. May I pour you another glass of port? Thank you, General. The General fill both glasses and said, God makes some men poets. Some he makes kings, some better. me he made a hunter my hand was made for the trigger my father said he was a very rich man with a quarter of a million acres in the Crimea and he was an ardent sportsman when i was only five years old he gave me a little gun especially made in moscow for me to shoot sparrows with when i shot

some of his prized turkeys with it he did not punish me he complimented me on my marksmanship I killed my first bear in the Caucasus when I was ten. My whole life has been one prolonged hunt. I went into the army. It was expected of nobleman sons, and for a time commanded a division of Cossack cavalry, but my real interest was always the hunt. I have hunted every kind of game in every land.

Here would be impossible for me to tell you how many animals I have killed. The general then puffed at his cigarette. After the debacle in Russia I left the country, for it was imprudent for an officer of the Tsar to stay there. Many noble Russians lost everything. I, luckily, had invested heavily in American securities, so I shall never have to open a tea room in Monte Carlo, or drive a taxi in parents. Or naturally, I continued to hunt. Grizzlies and your Rockies, crocodiles in the ganges, rhinoceros in East Africa. It was in Africa

that Cape Buffalo hit me and laid me up for six months. As soon as I was recovered, I started for the Amazon to hunt Jaguans, for I'd heard they were unusually cunning. They weren't. The Cossack sighed. They were no match at all for a hunter

with his wits about him and with a high-powered rifle. I was bitterly disappointed. I was lying in my tent with a splitting headache one night when a terrible thought pushed its way into my mind hunting was beginning to bore me and hunting remember had been my life i've heard that in america business men often go to pieces when they give up the business that's been their life yes that's so

rainsford the general smiled i had no wish to go to pieces he said i must do something now mine is a analytical mind mr doubtless that is why I enjoy the problems of the chase no doubt general Zarath so continued the general I asked myself why the hunt no longer fascinated me now you are much younger younger than I am mr Rainsford and have not hunted as much but perhaps you can guess the answer what was it ah simply this hunting it ceased to be what you call a sporting proposition. It had become too easy. I always got my quarry always. There's no greater bore than perfection. The general lit a fresh cigarette. No animal had a chance with me anymore. That is no boast. It's a mathematical certainty. The animal had nothing but his legs and his

instinct. Instinct is no match for reason. When I thought of this, it was a tragic moment for me I can tell you. Rainsford leaned across the table, absorbed in what his host was saying. It came to me as in inspiration what I must do, the general went on, and that was. The general smiled, the quiet smile of one who was faced an obstacle and surmounted it with success. I had to invent a new animal to hunt, he said. A new animal. you're joking. Not at all, said the general. I never joke about hunting.

I needed a new animal. I found one. So I bought this island, built this house, and here I do my hunting. The island is perfect for my purposes. There are jungles with a maze of traits in them, hills, swamps. But the animal, General Zarov. Oh, said the general. It supplies me with the most exciting hunting in the world.

No other hunting compares with it for an instant. Every day I hunt and I never grow bored now, for I have a quarry with which I can match my wits. Rainsford's bewilderment showed on his face. I wanted the ideal animal to hunt, explain the general. So I said, What are the attributes of an ideal quarry? And the answer was, of course.

You must have courage, cunning, and above all, it must be able to reason. But no animal can reason, objected Rainsford. My dear fellow, said the general. There is one that can. But you can't mean, gasped Rainsford. And why not? I can't believe you're serious General Zaroff. This is a grisly joke. "'Why should I not be serious? I am speaking of hunting.'

"'A hunting? Great guns, General Zaroff. What you speak of is murder.' The general then laughed with entire good nature. He regarded Rainsford quizzically. I refuse to believe that so modern and civilized a young man as you seem to be harbors romantic ideas about the value of human life. Surely your experiences in the war. did not make me condone cold-blooded murder, finished Rainsford stiffly. Laughter shook the general. How extraordinarily troll you are, he said. One does not expect nowadays to find a young man of the educated class,

even in America with such a naive, and, if I may say so, mid-Victorian point of view. It's like finding a snuff-box in a limousine. Ah, well, doubtless you had Puritan ancestors. so many Americans appear to have had. I'll wager, you'll forget your notions when you go hunting with me. You've a genuine new, thrilling store for you, Mr. Rainsford. Thank you.

I'm a hunter, not a murderer. Dear me, said the general, quite unruffled. Again, that unpleasant word. But I think I can show you that your scruples are quite ill-founded. Yes? Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and if needs be taken by the strong. The weak of the world were put here to give the strong pleasure. I am strong. Why should I not use my gift?

If I wish to hunt, why should I not? I hunt the scum of the earth, sailors from tramp ships. Ah, all kinds. A thoroughbred horse or hound is worth more than a score of men. "'But they are men,' said Rainsford Hong. "'Precisely,' said the general. "'That's why I use them. It gives me pleasure. "'They can reason after a fashion so. They are dangerous. "'But where do you get them?'

"'The general's left eyelids flutter down in a wink. "'This island is called ship-trap,' he answered. "'Sometimes an angry god of the high seas sends them to me. sometimes when Providence is not so kind, I help Providence a bit. Come to the window with me. Rainsford went to the window and looked out toward the sea. Watch! Out there! exclaimed the General, pointing into the night. Rainsford eyes saw only blackness, and then, as the General pressed a button,

far out of sea, Rainsford saw the flash of lights. The General chuckled. they indicate a channel said where there's none just giant rocks with razor edges crouching like a sea monster with wide open jaws they can crush a ship as easily as i crush this nut he then dropped a walnut on the hardwood floor and brought his hill grinding down on it ah yes he said casually as if in answer to a question I have electricity. We try to be civilized here. Civilized?

And you shoot down men. A trace of anger was now in the general's black eyes, but it was there for but a second, and he said in his most pleasant manner, "'Dear me, what a righteous young man you are, I assure you I do not do the thing you suggest. That would be barbarous. I treat these visitors with every consideration.

they get plenty of good food and exercise they get into splendid physical condition and you shall see that for yourself tomorrow what do you mean well visit my training school smiled the general it's in the cellar i have about a dozen pupils down there now there from the spanish bark san lukhar and had the bad luck to go on the rocks out there a very inferior lot i regret to say poor speck and more accustomed to the deck than to the jungle. He raised his hand, and Ivan, who served as waiter, brought thick Turkish coffee. Rainsford, with an effort, held his tongue in check. It's a game, you see, pursued the general, blammy. I suggest to one of them that we go hunting. I give him a supply of food and an excellent hunting knife.

I give him three hours' start. I am to follow, armed only with a pistol. of the smallest calibre and range. If my aquaria lose me for three whole days, he wins the game. If I find him, the general smiled. He loses. Suppose he refuses to be hunted. Oh, said the general.

I give him his option, of course. He need not play the game if he does not wish to. If he does not wish to hunt, I turn him over to Ivan. Ivan once had the honour of serving. as official Nauta to the Great White Tsar, and he has his own ideas of sport. Invariably, Mr. Rainsford, invariably they do choose the hunt. And if they win, the smile on the general's face widened. To date, I have not lost, he said. Then he added, hastily,

I do not wish you to think me a braggard, Mr. Rainsford. Many of them afford only the most elementary sort of problem. Occasionally I strike a tartar. One almost did win. I even had to use the dogs. The dogs? This way, please. I'll show you.

The general steered Rainsford to the window. The lights from the window sent a flickering illumination that made grotesque patterns on the courtyard below, and Rainsford could see moving about their dozen or so huge black shapes. As they turned toward him, their eyes glittered greenly. "'Oh, a rather good lot, I think,' observed the general.

"'They are let out at seven every night. "'If anyone should try to get into my house or out of it, "'something extremely regrettable would occur to him.' "'He then hummed a snatch of song from the Follie Berger. "'And now,' said the general, "'I want to show you my new collection of heads. "'Will you come with me to the library?' "'Oh, I hope,' said Rainsford.

that you'll excuse me tonight, General Zorov. I'm not feeling really well. Oh, indeed, the general inquired solicitous sleep. Well, I suppose that's only natural after your long swim. You need a good, restful night's sleep. Tomorrow you'll feel like a new man, I'll wager. And then we'll hunt, eh? I've one rather promising prospect.

Rainsford was hurrying from the room. "'Oh, sorry you can't go with me tonight,' called the general. "'I expect rather fair support. "'A big, strong man. "'Oh, he looks resourceful. "'Well, good night, Mr. Rainesford. "'I hope you have a good night's rest. "'The bed was good, and the pyjamas of the softest silk,

"'and he was tired in every fibre of his being. "'But nevertheless, Rainsford could not quiet his brain "'with the opiate of sleep. "'He lay eyes wide over. open once he thought he heard stealthy steps in the corridor outside his room he sought to throw open the door but it would not open he went to the window and looked out his room was high up in one of the towers the lights of the chateau were out now and it was dark and silent there was a fragment of sallow moon and by its one light he could see dimly the

courtyard there weaving in and out in the pattern of shadow were black noise useless forms. The hounds heard him at the window and looked up, expectantly, with their green eyes. Rainsford went back to the bed and lay down. By many methods he tried to put himself to sleep. He'd achieved a dose when, just as morning began to come, he heard, far off in the jungle, a faint report of a pistol. General Zara off did not appear until luncheon. He was dressed faultlessly in the tweeds of a country squire. He was so. solicitous about the state of Rainsford's help. As for me, sighed the general.

I do not feel so well. I am worried, Mr. Rainsford. Last night I detected traces of my old complaint. To Rainsford's questioning, glance, the general said, Oh, ennui, boredom. Then, taking a second helping of Cribe Suzette, the general explained. The hunting was not good last night.

The fellow lost his head. He made a straight trail that offered no problems at all. Ah, that's the trouble with these sailors. They have dull brains to begin with, and they do not know how to get about in the woods. They do excessively stupid and obvious things. It's most annoying. Will you have another glass of Shabli, Mr. Rainsford?

General, said Rainsford firmly. I wish to leave this island at once. The general, his thickets of eyebrows he seemed hurt but my dear fellow the general protested you've only just come you've had no hunting but i wish to go today said rainsford he saw the dead black eyes of the general on him studying him general zaroff's face suddenly brightened he filled rainsfield's glass with venerable shebley from a dusty bottle tonight said the general we will hunt you and I. Reinsford shook his head. No, General, he said, I will not hunt. The General

shrugged his shoulders and delicately ate to a hot house grave. As you wish, my friend, he said. The choice rests entirely with you, but may I not venture to suggest that you will find my idea of sport more diverting than Ivan's. He nodded toward the corner, for where the giant stood, scowling his thick arms crossed on his hogs head of chest oh you don't mean it cried reinsford my dear fellow said the general have i not told you i always mean what i say about hunting this is really an inspiration i drink to a foeman worthy of my steel at last the general raised his glass but rainsford sat staring at him you'll find this game worth playing the general said enthusiastically your brain against mine your woodcraft against mine your

strength and stamina against mine outdoor chess and the stake is not without value hey and if i win began reinsford huskily i'll cheerfully acknowledge myself defeat if i do not find you by midnight of the third day said general zaroff my sloop will place you on the mainland near a town the general read what rainsford was thinking oh you can't trust me said the cossack i will give you my word as a gentleman and a sportsman of course you in turn must agree to say nothing of your visit here i'll agree to nothing of the kind said rainsford oh said the general in that case but oh why discuss that now three days hence we can discuss it over a bottle of of clique oh unless the general sipped his wine then a business-like air animated him ivan he said to rainsford we'll supply you with hunting clothes food a knife i suggest you wear marcusons they leave a poorer trail i suggest too that you avoid the big swamp in the southeast corner of the

island we call it death swarm there's quicksand there one foolish fellow tried it The deplorable part of it was that Lazarus followed him. Oh, you can imagine my feelings, Mr. Reinsford. I loved Lazarus. He was the finest hound in my pack. Well, I must beg you to excuse me now. I always take a siesta after lunch. You hardly have time for a nap, I fear.

You'll want to start, no doubt. I shall not follow till dusk. Hunting a night is so much more exciting than by day, don't you think? "'Orevoire, Mr. Reinsford. "'Orevoir!' General Zaroff with a deep, curtly bow, "'then strolled from the room. "'From another door came Ivan,

"'and one army carried khaki hunting-clothes, "'a haversack of food, "'a leather sheath containing a long-bladed hunting-knife, "'his right hand rested on a cocked revolver thrust "'in the crimson sash about his waist. "'Rainsford had fought his way "'through the bush for two hours. I must keep my nerve, I must keep my nerve, he said through tight teeth.

He had not been entirely clear-headed when the chateau-gates snapped shut behind him. His whole idea at first was to put distance between himself and General Zarov, and to this end he had plunged along, spurred on by the sharp rowers of something like panic. Now he'd got a grip on himself, had stopped and was taking stock of himself and the situation. He saw that straight, flight was futile. Inevitably it would bring him face to face with the sea. He was in a picture with a frame of water, and his operations clearly must take place within that frame. "'Well, I'll give him a trail to follow,' muttered Rainsford, and he struck off from the rude path

he'd been following into the trackless wilderness. He executed a series of intricate loops. He doubled on his trail again and again, recalling all the law of the foxhunt, and all the dodges of the fox night found him leg-weary with hands and face lashed by the branches on a thickly wooded ridge he knew it would be insane to blunder on through the dark even if he had the strength his need for rest was imperative and he thought i've played the fox now i must play the cat of the fable a big tree with a thick trunk and outspread branches was nearby and taking care not to to leave the slightest mark, he climbed up into the crotch, and stretching out on one of the broad limbs, but after a fashion, rested. Rest brought him new confidence, and almost a feeling of security.

Even so zealous a hunter as General Zarov couldn't trace him there, he told himself. Only the devil himself could follow that complicated trail through the jungle after dark. But perhaps the general was a devil. An apprehensive knight crawled slowly by like a wound. snake and sleep did not visit Rainesford although the silence of a dead world was on the jungle toward morning when a dingy grey was varnishing the sky the cry of some startled bird focused Rainesford's attention in that direction something was coming through the bush coming slowly carefully coming by the same winding way rainsford had come he flattened himself down on the limb and through a screen of leaves almost as thick as tapestry He watched. That which was approaching was a man.

It was General Zarov. He made his way along with eyes fixed in utmost concentration on the ground before him. He paused, almost beneath the tree, dropped to his knees and studied the ground. Rainsford's impulse was to hurl himself down like a panther, but he saw that the general's right hand held something metallic. a small automatic pistol the hunter shook his head several times as if he were puzzled and he straightened up and took from his case one of his black cigarettes his pungent incense-like smoke floated up to rainsford's nostrils rainsford held his breath the general's eyes had left the ground and were travelling inch by inch up the tree rainsford froze there every muscle tensed for a spring

but the sharp eyes of the hunter stop before they reached the limb where Rainsford lay. A smile spread over his brown face, and very deliberately he blew a smoke ring into the end. Then he turned his back on the tree and walked carelessly away. Back along the trail he'd come. The swish of the underbrush against his hunting boots growing fainter and fainter. The pent-up air burst hotly from Rainsford's lungs. his first thought made him feel sick and numb the general could follow a trail through the woods at night he could follow an extremely difficult trail he must have uncanny powers only by the merest chance had the cossack failed to see his quarry rainsford's second thought was even more terrible he sent a shudder of cold horror through his whole being why had the general smiled why had he turned back

Rainsford did not want to believe what his reason told him was true, but the truth was as evident as the sun that it by now pushed through the morning mists. The general was playing with him. The general was saving him for another day's sport. The Cossack was the cat, and he was the mouse. Then it was that Rainsford knew the full meaning of terror. I will not lose my nerve. I will not. He slid down from the tree and struck off again into the woods. His face was set,

and he forced the machinery of his mind to function. Three hundred yards from his hiding place he stopped where a huge dead tree leaned precariously on a smaller living one. Throwing off his sack of food, Rainsford took his knife from its sheath and began to work with all his energy. The job was finished at last, and he threw himself down behind his head. a fallen log a hundred feet away. He didn't have to wait long. The cat was coming again to play with the mouse. Following the trail with the sureness of a bloodhound came General Zav.

Nothing escaped those searching black eyes. No crushed blade of grass, no bent twig, no mark, no matter how faint in the moss. So intent was the Cossack on his stalking that he was upon the thing Rainsford had made before he saw it. His foot touched the peasant. protruding bow that was the trigger. Even as he touched it, the general sensed his danger and leapt back with the agility of an ape. But he wasn't quite quick enough.

The dead tree, delicately adjusted to rest on the cut living one, crashed down and struck the general a glancing blow on the shoulder as it fell. But for his alertness, he would surely have been smashed beneath it. He staggered, but he did not fall, nor did he drop his revolver. He stood there, rubbing his injured chest. shoulder, and Rainsford, with fear again gripping his heart, heard the general's mocking laugh ring through the jungle. "'Rainsford,' called the general.

"'If you are within sound of my voice, as I suppose you are, let me congratulate you. Not many men know how to make a Malay man-catcher. Luckily for me, I, too, have hunted in Malacca. You are proving interesting, Mr. Rainsford. I'm going to have my wound dressed. It's only a slight one, but I shall be back. I shall be back. When the general, nursing his bruised shoulder, had gone,

Rainsford took up his flight again. It was flight now, a desperate, hopeless flight, that carried him on for some hours. Dust came, then darkness, and still he pressed on. The ground grew softer under his moccasins. The vegetation grew rancour, denser, an insect bit him savagely. Then, as he stepped forward, his foot sank into the ooze.

He tried to wrench it back, but the mucks sucked viciously as his foot as if it were a giant leech. With a violent effort, he tore his feet loose. Yes, he knew where he was now. Death swamp and its quicksand. His hands were tight closed as if his nerve was something tangible that someone in the darkness was trying to tear from his eyes. grip. The softness of the earth had given him an idea, though. He stepped back from the quicksand a dozen feet or so ant, like some huge prehistoric beaver, he began to dig. Rainsford had dug himself

in back in France when a second's delay meant death. That had been a placid pastime compared to his digging now. The pick grew deeper, and when it was above his shoulders he climbed out and from some hard saplings cut stakes and sharpen them to a fine point. These stakes he planted in the bottom of the pit, with a point sticking up. With flying fingers he wove a rough carpet of weeds and branches, and with it he covered the mouth of the pit. Then, wet with sweat and aching with tiredness, he crouched behind the stump of a lightning charred tree. He knew his pursuer was coming. He heard the padding sound of feet on the soft earth, and the night breeze brought him the perfume of the general cigarette.

It seemed for Reinsford that the general was coming with unusual swiftness. He was not feeling his way along, foot by foot. Rainsford, crouching there, could not see the general, nor could he see the pit. He lived a year in a minute. Then he felt an impulse to cry aloud with joy, for he heard the sharp crackle of the breaking branches as the cover of the pit gave way. He heard the sharp scream of pain as the pointed stakes found their mark. He leapt up from his place of concealment.

Then he cowered back. Three feet from the pit a man was standing, with an electric torch in his hand. Ah, you've done well, Rainsford, the voice of the general called. Your Burmese tiger pit has claimed one of my best dogs. Again you score. Well, I think, Mr. Rainsford, I'll see what you can do against my whole pack. I'm going home for a rest. now. Thank you for a most amusing evening. The daybreak, Rainsford, lying near the swamp,

was awakened by a sound that made him know that he had new things to learn about fear. It was a distant sound, faint and wavering, but he knew it. It was the baying of a pack of hounds. Rainsford knew he could do one of two things. He could stay where he was and wait. That was suicide. He could flee. that was postponing the inevitable for a moment he stood there thinking an idea that held a wild chance came to him and tightening his belt he headed away from the swamp the bang of the hounds drew nearer and still nearer nearer never ever nearer on a ridge rinsford climbed a tree down a water course not a quarter of a mile away you could see the bush moving straining his eyes he saw the lean figure of general

Zarov. Just ahead of him, Rainsford made out another figure whose wide shoulders surged through the tall jungle weeds. It was a giant Ivan, and he seemed pulled forward by some unseen force. Rainsford knew that Ivan must be holding the pack in Leach. They were beyond him any minute now. His mind worked frantically. He thought of a native trick he'd learned in Uganda. He slid down the tree. He caught hold of a hard. of a springy young sapling and he fastened it to his hunting knife with the blade pointing down the trail with a bit of wild grapevine he tied back the sapling and then he ran for his life the hounds raised their voices as they hit the fresh scent rainsford knew now how any animal at bay feels

he had to stop her to get his breath and the baying of the hounds stopped abruptly and And Rainsford heart stopped too. They must have reached the night. He shinned excitedly up a tree and looked back. His pursuers had stopped. But the hope that was in Rainford's brain when he climbed died, for he saw in the shallow valley that General Zaroff was still on his feet. But Ivan was not.

The knife, driven by the recoil of the springing tree, had not wholly failed. Rainsford had hardly tumbled to the ground. ground when the pack took up the cry once more nerve nerve nerve he panted as he dashed along a blue gap show between the trees dead ahead ever nearer drew the hounds reinsford forced himself on toward that gap he reached it it was the shore of the sea across a cove he could see the gloomy gray stone of the shadow 20 feet below him the sea rumbled and hissed rainsford hesitated he heard the hounds and then he leapt far out into the sea when the general in his pack reached the place by the sea the cossack stopped for some minutes he stood regarding the blue-green expanse of water

he shrugged his shoulders and then he sat down took a drink of brandy from a silver flask lit a cigarette and hummed a bit from madame butterfly general zaroff had an exceedingly good dinner in his great paneled dining hall that evening. With it he had a bottle of Paul Roger and half a bottle of Chambartin. Two slight annoyances kept him from perfect enjoyment, though. One was the thought that it would be difficult to replace Ivan. The other was that his quarry had escaped him. Of course, the American hadn't played the game. So thought the general, as he tasted his after-dinner liqueur.

In his library he read to soothe himself. from the works of Marcus Aurelius. At tenny went up to his bedroom. He was deliciously tired, he said to himself, as he locked himself in. There was a little moonlight, so before turning on his light, he went to the window and looked down at the courtyard.

He could see the great hounds, and he called, Ah, better look next time! To them, and they switched on the light. A man who had been hiding in the curtains of the bed was standing there. "'Rainsford!' screamed the general. "'How in God's name did you get here?' "'I swam,' said Rainsford.

"'I found it quicker than walking through the jungle. "'The general sucked in his breath and smiled. "'I congratulate you,' he said. "'You have won the game.' "'Rainsford did not smile. "'I'm still a beast at bay,' he said in a low horse voice. get ready generals are the general made one of his deepest bows i see he said splendid one of us is to furnish a repast for the hounds the other will sleep in this very excellent bed on guard rainsford and he had never slept in a better bed rainsford decided and so once again we reach the end

of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.