Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep248: Episode 248: Science Fiction Horror Stories

Episode Date: June 3, 2025

Today’s podcast is a 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. Today’s opening terrifying tale of terror is the classic ‘In the Orbit of Saturn’, 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/29038/pg29038-images.html  Today’s second terrifying tale of horror is the classic ‘The Dark Side of Antri’, 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/30177/pg30177 Today’s third terrifying tale is the classic ‘Mad Music’, an old-school work by the wonderful Anthony Pelcher, 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/28617/28617-h/28617-h.htm#Mad_Music  Today’s fourth terrifying tale of the macabre is the classic ‘An Extra Man’, an old-school work by the wonderful Jackson Gee, 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/29882/29882-h/29882-h.htm#An_Extra_Man Today’s penultimate terrifying tale of terror is the classic ‘Hell’s Dimension’, an old-school work by the wonderful Tom Curry, 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/30452/30452-h/30452-h.htm#Hells_Dimension Tonight’s final old school tale of terror is ‘The Man who was Dead’ by Thomas H. Knight, a work in the public domain, read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/29390/29390-h/29390-h.htm#The_Man_Who_Was_Dead

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. In the orbit of Saturn by R.F. Stazel, disguised as a voluntary prisoner on a pirate spaceship. An IFP man penetrates the mystery of the dreaded solar skirt. The celestial, gliding through space toward Titan, major satellite of Saturn, faltered in her course. Her passengers, mostly mining engineers and their wives, stockholders and a sprinkling of visitors, were aware of a cessation of the heaven's apparent gyrations due to the halting of the ship's rotation on its axis. At the same time the ship's fictitious gravity, engendered by the centrifugal force of its rotation, ceased,

so that passengers, most of whom were assembled in the main salon, which occupied the entire midship section, drifted away from the curved floor whose contour followed that of the outer skin, to flounder in helpless confusion. A woman screamed. A rasping sound as of metal scraping against the hull came from one point in the circumference, and here the portholes were obscured by a dark mass that blotted out the stars.

An old man clinging to a luxuriously upholstered chair and pair with fright cried out. Oh, it's those damn pirates. If they find out who I am, it'll break the company to ransom me. If the company thinks it's worthwhile to ransom you, retorted his youngish, satinine companion, who seemed less scared than annoyed. Questions darted back and forth.

No work came from the control room forward, and little of what transpired outside could be seen through the thick glass ports. The pirate ship loomed over them like a monstrous leech, its bolts sharply etched in black and white by the sunlight from their stern. Beyond that was only the very very very very. the velvety darkness, the absolute vacuity of space that carries no sound refracts no light. A battle was raging out there, but of that nothing could be seen or heard in the salon. Only a dull, booming vibration through the flyer's hull, made by the rockets in a useless effort

to shake off their camter. Of all the passengers, none understood the situation quite as well as Quirl Finner. In imagination, he followed the desperate struggle that was going on out there. For the men who were selling their lives were his companions in arms, the ship's guard of the redoubtable IFP, the interplanetary flying police who carried the law of man to the outmost orbit of the solar system. Quirled bristled, but he maintained his pose of indifference, of the sightseeing passenger who depended blindly on the ship's cruise for his own safety. In appearance he might easily have been the pampered son of some millionaire that he'd impersonated.

His close-fitting silk and tunic of blue, with its bright yellow roll collar, and a turban of fine yellow lace, the close-fitting trousers that showed his lithe yet powerfully moulded legs, the thin-sold low boots, while they all proclaimed him the typical time-killing dandy of its eyes. His superb proportions made him look smaller, lighter than he really was, and his lean features, which under the IFP score-cap would have looked hawk-like, were sufficiently like the patrician-frews. fineness of the character party was playing young men of means in the year 2159 were by no means without their good points they indulged in athletic sports to counter out the softening influence of idleness and so quarreled finner had no misgivings about the success of his disguise yet he could not refrain from listening intently for every sound that penetrated the home his part was to be captured by the pirate who had been named the solar scourge by a sincere sensational newscasters and to learn all he could and eventually to be ransomed by a wealthy father with his priceless information so he waited chafing while men he knew men who would face the perils of space with him met their death after a time there came the sudden crackling of the airtight bulkhead which separated the salon from the forward sections

Quirle knew what this meant. The pirates had succeeded in breaching a hole through the ship's skin, and the air of the forward section had rushed into space. It was sickening to think of those brave men up there caught in the suddenly formed vacuum. Long before the bulkhead had ceased crackling, he knew they were dead, and that the pirate crew had entered, wearing vacuum suits, and was even then replenishing the air so the passengers could be taken alive. They'd been in the prison-holder the pirate ship for five days, terrestrial type. This was nothing like the spacious quarters they'd occupied before. A cross-section of their prison would have looked like a wedge with a quarter circle for its blunt hands. The curved wall of the great cylindrical projectile, nearly a hundred

feet in diameter, was their floor, on which they could walk like flies on the inside of a wheel-rim. The walls of the room, on two sides, converge toward the top, until they join the sides. They of a well-like tunnel that ran from the nose of the ship to its tail, where the rocket nozzles were. The door pierced the tunnel side, and under this door was a metal platform, from which one could either climb into the passage or down a ladder into the hole. A pirate guard held this platform from where he could peer over the top of a curtain which gave scant privacy to the men and women prisoners on either side of it. On the floor plates, without even the meagre comfort of the dried Martian weeds that had been given to the women sat or lay the men. They displayed their dejection,

their faces covered with new growths of beard, their clothes crumpled and torn. The only furniture consisted of a long, light metal table on the wooden side, securely bolted to the floor. The prisoners were obliged to stand at this when eating their meals. The whole cheerless scene was coldly illuminated by a single light emanating disc just under the Gar's platform. steps echoed hollowly metallic from above quorle wondered if it was already time for the galley boy to bring the immense bowl of hot stew for the noon meal but it was not it was moby gore a huge and overbearing first mate of the pirates on his daily mission of inspection and prisoner baiting Quorle crept further into his corner. It would be fatal to his plan for him to attract the attention of this petty tyrant. It was hard enough to keep away from him,

to crush back the almost overwhelming desire to fly at him like fists hammering. Gore came down the ladder deliberately, pausing on the lower steps to look around with his little pig's eyes. His head was set well forward on his thick, muscular neck, so that he had to look out from under his bed. beetling brows in a manner peculiarly ape-like. His heavy face was smooth-shaven, and his blue-black jowls and chin looked painfully smooth. His coarse black hair was brushed back and plastered firmly to his bullet head. His body was heavy, but moved with deadly smoothness and precision. The customary

harness, which passed around his naked torso, supported a double-barreled ionizing electrocution pistol and also a short, savagely knobbed riot club. Hanging from the belt at his waist were short pants which displayed the thick, hairy legs with their cable-like muscles. On his feet were thick socks so that his toes were able to curl around the rungs of the ladder. Satisfied with his quick, darting inspection, Gore now came all the way down. At the foot of the ladder lay an elderly man in the oblivion of sleep. gore's foot came down on a thin chest with savage pleasure he bore down so that the old man startled squawk ended in a fit of coughing gore cuffed him aside roughly growling "'Old Squiver, let that learn you to sleep out of the way.'

He then laughed coarsely when one of the prisoners with the temerity of anonymity started to boo, but received no support. Carelessly gore passed among the prisoners. Here and there he halted, snatching some article of finery or inconspicuous bit of jewelry that he'd overlooked before. They all shrank from him, only too glad to see him pass on to the next, unfortunate. You there, Gore roused, indicating Quirle with his stubby forefinger.

Come on out of there, you. Quirle hoped that the brutal mate would not hear the thudding of his beating heart, although if he did, he would take it for fear. He came slowly toward Gore, who was greedily eyeing the young man's brightly colored and valuable tunings. Quirle came too slowly. "'What do you take me for?' Gore bellowed in an unreasonable anger.

He strode forward, the prisoner scattering before him. His large, knotty hand closed on Quirl's arm and jerked with the intention of whirling this reluctant prisoner across the room. The Quirle was heavier and his arm harder than Gore had supposed. The hand came away and, with a tearing scream, the beautiful silk garment ripped off, ruined. disclosing Quirle's white and well-knit body. "'Ye, you've done that on purpose,' Gore roared,

and then his great ape's arms were around Quirle, trying to break his back. But that seemingly slight body would not bend, and as much as Gore might tug and heave, he couldn't force Quirl back. Those little pig-eyes glared, and there was death in them. Suddenly Gore let go,

his hand leaped to the short club, at his side he swung the weapon in a vicious arm Quirles relaxed for our met it sapping most of its force yet when it struck his head it seemed to burst like a ball of fire he crashed against the wall and sank to the floor only half conscience Gore gore you know the guard from the platform remember how saw the old man was about the last Terry you killed better lay off man ah shut you a damn mug, Gore yelled back, but he gave up his idea of kicking the prisoner, and with a menacing glare for the guard, moved on. As Quirle's mind slowly cleared, he congratulated himself for his

repression. During his struggle with Gore, his hand had come in contact with the butt of the mate's electrogun. He could have easily pulled it out of its holster and turned it against his owner, but this hasty action would not only have assured his own death. what would have destroyed the only chance the IFP had of learning the scourges secret. Gore slowly worked his way to the women's side of the hold. Here, much to the amusement of the guard and himself, he began stripping off their long, flowing robes, disclosing their nude bodies. He seemed to find particular humour in heaping indignity on the older women,

commenting coarsely on their shortcomings. The man viewed this with set pale faces, but none dared to interfere. In their midst was an object lesson, his head swayed in bandages. Well, he'd been the first to resent this exhibition, an almost daily event, when the mate's roving eye had happened to alight upon his wife.

All at once, Gore's careless and derogatory progress was halted, and he stared with terrifying intentness at the girl who had, and until that day managed to escape his notice. The gore had torn off a nondescript black cape that had covered her head and face, and the golden silk robe she wore. To quell, watching from a space of some sixty feet, her beauty came as a shot. Well, he remembered her as Lenore Hyde, whom he'd seen only once before as she emerged briefly from her stately. About five feet six tall, her slim figure was dwarfed by the huge bulk of the mate. A golden hair tumbled over her slim shoulders, almost to her waist, where a tasseled cord held the clinging silk close to her.

Her face, so white that it seemed like silver in that gorgeous setting, was cold and defiant. There was no fear in those deep blue eyes under the straight browns, only loathing and contempt. Gore was not concerned with the personal feelings of his prize. He licked his wide, cruel lips, seizing the girl. arms as in a vice his other big dirty hand slipped into the collar of her robe the ripping of the fabric did not come instead there was a sharp crack and gore too surprised to even move stared at the little man who'd hit him again crack the impact of fist on jaw the blow was too weak to hurt this tough and veteran of countless battles but slowly a tide of dull red whirled up over the

bull neck, turning the blue-black jowls to purple, and the walls echo to Gore's roar of anger. Again the fists of the smaller man smacked, this time drawing a trickle of blood from Gore's mouth. And then the thick fingers closed on the brave passenger's wrist, and the tremendous muscle swelled as, with a quick movement, Gore thrust his adversary back from him, grasping the other wrist also. There with slow, irresistible motion, he began drawing the thin arms forward, stretching them, until the unfortunate man, drawn against the barrier of Gore's back, began to shriek in pain. But still Gore pulled, grinning evilly, and his victim's shoulder-blades lifted under the tight skin of his back as they took the strain. Shriek followed shriek,

until the guard on the platform glanced furtively out into the central well. It became a dry, tearing crackle as the bones of the arms were drawn out of their sockets. Then the shrieks ceased as merciful unconsciousness came. Gore tossed the limp body carelessly aside. That beast, Quirl gritted his teeth. But he stayed where he was, hiding his clenched fist. For his was a specific assignment. The men of the IFP know the meaning.

of the word duty. Now in better humour again, Gore looked around. Oh, come on, you little Ginny, he chortled. I see you. Come to Moby, my beauty. You'll be queen of the whole, and this scurvy little will kiss your feet every day.

He pursued her then as she ran, bowling over or trampling on the fierce-stricken passengers as they tried to scramble out of his way, men and women alike. But she made up in agility what she lacked in strength, lifting up the hem of her robe so that her legs twinkled bare, ducking under Gore's outstretched arms, or leaping over the fallen form of some stumbling, panic-stricken unfortunate. Only in her eyes was there a true picture of her terror. Gore's uncertain temper was changing again, and in a few moments she was cursing fouling. His little red-rimmed eyes glistening, as he dashed after her with short and bore-like rushes.

again she skim past where Quirle cowered in simulated fear and look she gave him struck straight at the disguised officer's heart so it was when she slipped and fell to her knees and Gour charged in with a triumphant laugh the Quirle met him with no thought of anything no feeling but the joy of battle the delight of a strong man when he meets a foe whom he hates and to that heady feral emotion was added the unforgettable picture of a lovely face whose obvious fear was somehow tempered by hope and confidence, hope and confidence in him. As Gore lunged past, Quirle struck him. It was a short, sharp, well-time jab that would have knocked out an ordinary man, but Gore was by no means ordinary. The blow laid open his

cheek against the jawbone, but Gore scarcely slowed as he swerved. With a bellow of rage, he came straight at Quorle, arms outstretched. Philosophers have said that no matter how far the human race advances in the sciences, its fundamental reactions will still be atavistic. Gore could have dispatched Quirled in a second with his ray weapon with perfect safety. Yet it's doubtful that the weapon even entered his mind. As he came to the battle he was driven only by the primitive urge to fight with his hands, to maim to tear limb from limb like the great Simeons whom he resemble. To Quirle, cool he poised the picture of Gore did not inspire terror in the passengers though he did

they saw a brutal giant griller-like and roaring like a beast charging it a half-naked youth apparently only half his size seemed that those tremendous arms must break him at the first touch but the grasping hands slipped off the lithe body as if it were oiled leaving only angry red welts along Quirle's ribs as he officer edged away, he planted two blows on Gore's nose, which began to bleed freely. Again, Gore rushed and spat, spat two seemingly light blows landing on his face, opening a cut above his eye and another on his cheekbone. In a few seconds of battling, he'd become a shocking sight, with his features almost obscured by welling blood.

Again, Quirle measured him, and this time, instead of evading the grasp of the mate's eager arms, he stepped right between them. Like a wrath he slipped into their embrace, and before they could grasp him, standing so close that his chest almost touched his adversaries, he whipped a right to Gore's jaw. It was the kind of punch that makes champions, a whip-like lash of the forearm, with relaxed muscles that tighten at the moment of impact. A punch with follow-through fit to knock out 99 men out of 100. But it didn't knock out Gore, and Quirle had to pay dearly for this error. Gore was staggered, but his mighty arms closed, hugging his slighter opponent to his hairy chest

so that the breath was choked out of him, and the metal studs on his harness gouged cruelly into Quirle's flesh. His face was blue before he could work his arm loose, and began to prod with stiffen fingers at Gore's throat. Gore had to let go then, and Quirle broke away, boxed for a few moments until he'd recovered, and then proceeded to chop Gore's face beyond any semblance of humanity. The mate had dropped his ray weapon, and now searched for it with blinded eyes. He flung his riot club, but it flew wide of the mark. It was obvious that he was going to be beaten into insensibility. The guard on the platform, seeing the trend of the battle, shouted hoarsely up the well, and in a few minutes four men,

hard-bitten, villainous-looking fellows, tumbled down the ladder and joyously joined in the fray. He was then only a matter of seconds before Quirle lay on the floor-plates, battered and bleeding, but still feebly fighting, while Gore sat astride him, seeking with vicious fingers for Quirle's eyes. At the same time his men were kicking at the helpless man's body wherever they could reach him. At the sight of this brutality, the other prisoners,

forgetting for the moment that he was a man's body wherever they could reach him. their own cowed condition, set up such a bedlam of noise that the guard began to look furtively up the passage, and to shout at the ruffians. Suddenly he was whirled aside, and a figure in uniform, moving with uncanny speed for a man so massive, appeared upon the platform and bounded down the ladder. He was among the struggling men on the floor in a moment, and became a maze of flailing arms and legs. Like ten pins the pirate scattered, and the giant pulled off the mate gore could not see but as he writhed he knew he was in the grip of the pirate captain captain strom's harsh ascetic face was dangerous and his steely gray eyes compelling the men

managed slovenly salutes gore strong snapped have your men get some water and mop up this blood how many times have i told you to quit mauling the prisoners Do you think I'm in this business to provide amusement for you? Henceforth, keep out of this hold. You hear? Yes, sir. Gore muttered solemnly. Took five of you bums to handle him, did it?

Strom remarked sardonically, stooping to pick up the unconscious squirrel. He carried him easily up the ladder. As they disappeared, Strom's voice boomed out. Dr. Stoddard. Stoddard. messenger have stoddard report to my cabin while the mate was wiping the blood off his face with a rag i tried to call you the guard whined ah that tears it gore exclaimed fiercely bursting into a string of abuse but one of his henchmen nudged him keep your tongue in your face gore till the time comes

Gore said nothing to this, but glared savagely at the prisoners. Get the buckets and mops, he snarled at his men, and they fled precipitately. A long wailing noise came through the hatch. Soup's on, soups on. Here comes your grab, damn you. Gore growled at the prisoners in general. A shuffling sound followed the sing-song call, and then a galley boy of forty years or so,

badly crippled by club feet, shuffled up to the hatch and laboriously let himself down to the platform. The huge bowl of stew he was carrying was far too heavy for him, and his strained, thin face was beady with sweat. Get a move on, Sorko, Gore bellowed up at him. Get your swill down here. Some of this swine down here are going to short this time anyway. Sorko set the big bowl down at the top of the steps and began to descend backwards. Then he resumed his burden. But he was nervous, and had barely started when his crippled feet, far too big for his thin shanks, became entangled.

He gave a giddy shriek and fell over backward, landing on his back, and lay still. His pale, freckled face, became greenish. But the bowl, filled to the brim by its greasy, scalding hot contents, flew in a sweeping parabola, tipping as it fell, so that the entire contents cascaded on gore, drenching him from head to foot. Howling with rage and pain, he danced around. He was utterly beside himself.

When he was able to see, he rushed for Sorko, who was moaning with returning consciousness, and picked up the frail body to hurt it against the floor. Stop, or you're dead? Well, that voice so incisive and clear was that of a woman. Gore found himself looking into the little twin funnels of his own ray projector. They were filled with a milky light, and the odor of ozone was strong. The girl had only to press the trigger, and a powerful current would leap along the path of those ionizing beams,

and Gore would murder no more. Stupidly, he let Sorko slide to the floor, where the poor fellow recovered sufficiently from his paralyzing fright and his fall to scuttle away. Looking past the menacing weapon, Gaw saw the girl. Lenore hides. Her limpid eyes under their straight brows were blazing, and he read in them certain death for himself. Up that ladder, she ordered sharply, and stay out.

Guard, when this beast is gone, I'll give you this weapon. Now, connect up your skipper. Too surprised to disobey. The guard threw the televisor switch. In a moment, Strom's son. stern face appeared on the screen. He comprehended the situation immediately. Do as she says, he ordered brusquely. Stoddard is coming to take care of that man of hers that Gore beat up. A few minutes later, she was tearfully assisting the ship's doctor to put the man with the dislocated

shoulders on a stretcher. Your husband? asked Stoddard, who resembled a starved grey rat. "'My brother,' she exclaimed simply. "'Wan to take care of him?' "'And at eager assent he said, "'I can't afford to let him die. "'Your family got money?' "'Yes, yes, they'll pay anything, anything, "'to get him back safely.'

"'Until this the doctor grinned with satisfaction. "'Memory returned to Quill "'with the realization that he was lying on a metal bunk "'in an outside stateroom "'where he could see the orderly procession of the stars through the floor ports as the ship rotated. His body was racked with pain, and his head seemed enormous. His sensation, he discovered, was due to a thick swathing of bandages. As he stirred, something moved in an adjoining bunk, and Dr. Stoddard's peaked face came into view.

How do you feel? he asked professionally. Rodden. "'Ah, we'll fix that.' He left, then, returning a few minutes later with a portable apparatus somewhat resembling its progenitor, the diaphomy generator. He disposed a number of insulated loops about Quirle's body and head, connecting them through flexible cables to his machine. As a gentle humming began, Quirle was conscious of an agreeable warmth,

of a quickening all over his body. A great lassitude followed, and then he slept. When he awoke again, Captain Strom was standing beside him. He'd taken off his coat, and his powerful body filled the blouse he was wearing. He'd evidently just come off duty, for he still had on his blue trousers with the stripes of gold braid down the side. It may interest you, Mr. Finner, that I've selected you as one of the chosen. He remarked casually, one of the chosen what? The chosen race.

You didn't take me for an out and out. now damn pirate, did you? Hey, excuse me if I seem dumb. Well, hoisted himself on his elbows. Or yes, I figure a pirate. What else? Strom's stern face relaxed in a smile. It was a strange smile,

a scrutably melancholy. It revealed, beneath the hardness of a warrior, something else, the idealism of a poet. And when he spoke again, it was with a strange gentleness to attain one's end. one must make use of many means and sometimes to disguise one's purpose. For instance, it is perfectly proper for an officer of the IFP to disguise himself like a son of the

idle rich in order to lay the infamous scourge by the heels, isn't it? Well, felt himself redden, and a cold fear seemed to overwhelm it. He realized that Strom was a zealot and he knew he would not hesitate to kill. this prompt penetration of his disguise was something he'd not bargained for what makes you think he asked shortly that i'm an i f p man well the fight you gave gore and his man do you expect me to think that a coupon clipper could have done that oh i know the way of he checked himself quirled then said my people have money i don't know what you mean about oh yes you do "'Straam interrupted. "'If you were what you claimed to be, "'perhaps I would let you go for the ransom.

"'You took my eye from the first. "'The ransom will be paid. "'It will not. "'You'll be one of those who do not return. "'There's only one price I would accept from you. "'Yeah? What's that?' "'The formula of the new ethereic ray. "'I don't know the IFP secrets.

I told you that. You know how to operate the ray. All its men do. I want you to tell me what you know. I can deduce the rest. Quirle thought rapidly. Well, Strom was right. The IFP had developed a new ray

that was far superior to the ionizer ray. For the latter required an atmosphere of some kind for its operation, while the new one would work equally well in a vacuum. I've never heard of any He lied, stubbornly. Anyway, what do you want to ray for? Your guns, with no gravity to interfere and no air to stop the bullets,

of just about unlimited range, haven't they? Spoken like a soldier. Again, Strom permitted himself a brief, triumphant smile. And we have the further advantage of invisibility. The ship is surrounded by a net of wires that create a field of force which bend light rays around us, and explains why your men have never caught us. But to get back to our subject,

I'll tell you something. Do you know who I am? Quirle looked at him. Strom appeared to be at least 60 years old, but that fine, erect figure and the rugged features told nothing. Did you ever hear of Lieutenant Burroughs? Strom asked casually. Burroughs?

The man without a planet? Quirle said are you borris the traitor immediately he regretted his heedlessness Strom's face darkened in anger and for a moment the pirate captain did not reply when he did though he was a little calm a traitor they called me he exclaimed vehemently I a traitor the most loyal man in the solar system guard surrounded by a rottenness and intrigue but You wouldn't know. You were but a lad learning to fly your first toy helix when that happened.

Years later the Martian cabal was exposed, and the leading plotters, the traitors, were punished. But that was not till later, and the court's irreversible decree against me had been carried out. I, the unsuspecting messenger, the loyal, eager dupe, was made the cats poor. I was placed on an old condemned freighter, with food and supplies supposed to last me a lifetime,

but with no power capsules and no means of steering the ship. I was set adrift in a derelict on a lonely orbit of exile around the sun. Yes, the man without a planet. Picture that lad, that rusty, dead old cylinder, coursing around and around the sun, and inside, sitting on his bales and boxes a young man like you. A young man in the pride and prime of his life, expiating the treason that I betrayed him.

Day after day through the thick ports, I saw the same changeless scene. And every two years when I drew near the earth, I watched the beautiful green ball of it with such bitter longings. As I watched it dwindle away again into the blackness of space, I thought of the fortunate, selfish, stupid and cruel beings

who lived on it, and I hated them. They'd banished me in an instant man, to whirl forever and ever around the sun in my steel too but that cruel judgment was never executed seven years ago this Gore found me he's an escaped convict and he came in a little five-man rocket he'd stolen we loaded up all of the supplies the little ship would hold for Gore had no food and we escaped a Titan landing on an island on the side opposite to where the mines are Gore wanted to become a pirate

And as he could get men, I consent it. He scraped them up, fugitives from justice, every one of them. We built this ship, and I invented the invisibility field of force. Hey, just a moment, well interrupted, vastly interested. I saw your ship through the ports that day. True, the presence of your ship in the field distorted it so much that it was ineffective, but at all other times, including right now, we are utterly invisible.

One of the IFP patrols may pass within a single mile of us and never see it. As we raided the interplanetary commerce, I began to weed out the people we captured. Those that showed the highest intelligence, sense of justice and physical perfection

I selected to be the nucleus of a new race, to be kept on Titan for a time and then, to be transplanted to a new planet of one of the nearest solar systems. My principal trouble is with the crew. They can collect ransom only on those I reject. There are constant clashes between me and go. There is now my intention to let them go their way and to fit out a new ship

with a new crew. And I offer you the place of first mate. No, Quill replied crisply. You say you understand the honour of the force, and then you offer me a job parroting with you? No, thanks. And Strom, or rather, boroughs, may no attempt to conceal his disappointment. The recital of his wrongs had brought out the bitter lines of his face, and the weariness of one who plays his game alone and can call no one friend. I should have known better, he said quietly. There was none more loyal to the IFP than I. Well, I still belong to it, and yet I thought if I laid all my cards before you,

Of course you realize what this means. Yes, Quirle replied soberly. It means you'll never dare to let me be ransomed, nor to free me among your selected people. It means death. Not death. I will parole you. Quirle then felt an overwhelming surge of sympathy.

He saw this pirate, as later historians have come to see him, a man of lofty and noble purpose who was made the victim of shrewder, meaner minds in the most despicable interplanetary imbroglio ever to disgrace a solar system. The thought of his own fate, should he refuse the offer, did not depress Quorl as much as the necessity of heaping more disappointment on this deeply wronged man without a planet. Captain, he said slowly, with deep regret. You remember the IFP oath. and at the others flush he hurried on knowing that oath you know what my answer must be but meat and irons or kill me

yes i know strong added wistfully would you if i could just once more shake the clean hand of a brave man and a gentleman quorl's hand shot out and gripped the long powerful fingers of the pirate capture or quill was willing to compromise to the of not revealing anything to the other passengers, for the privilege of being kept in the prison hold rather than in solitary confinement. Here he would be under the vigilant eye of a guard, with possibly less chance of effecting an escape in some way, but he felt a great desire to be near the girl Lenore, and to know that she was safe and in good spirits. They fastened him by means of a light chain and hoop that locked around his waist were staples set in the floor near one wall. The other prisoners regarded him as a hero,

but since the day of the epic fight, the mate had kept away, and they'd been treated with tolerable decency. Quirle was able to cheer them up with predictions that most of them would be eligible for ransom. But as he looked at the pale beauty of Lenore, he felt grave misgivings, but he knew that a man of Strom's discernment

would want her for his projected utopia without question. She did not speak to him while the hero worshipping crowd were fluttering about him to their heart's content. When they finally left him alone, she came up to him silently and sat on the floor beside him. I want to thank you, she said quietly and clearly. What you did for me and my brother, Mr. Finner, Quirl Finner. I've thought of you as Lenore and wondered how you were. How long has it been since they took me out? well you see um he grinned i was uh asleep oh five days at least they turn off the lights five

times for the sleeping periods and the man who fought for you how is he my brother he's dead The quarrel looked away so that he could not see the quick tears spring into her eyes. But a few moments later he felt her cool hand on his scarred forehead, and she was smiling bravely. What tragedies such as these quarrel were common in the lives of our ancestors? They were able to bear them, and we can bear them. All this life my poor brother has lived as a gentleman, sheltered protected by class barriers. When he died of pneumonia caused by the jagged end of a broken wrist, So Dr. Stoddart says,

I think he had a lively sense of satisfaction that he should end in such a way. Well, if it hadn't been for me, she came to him often after that, to sit quietly by his side and to bring his food to him from the big community bowl, which even the most fastidious of the prisoners have come to look forward to. She told of her life as the daughter of a capitalist who owned large mine holdings on Titan. It would be about time for the Celestia to reach Titan. and her non-arrival would be causing anxiety to Lenore's father awaiting her there. The void would be swarming with IFP patrols, but as the pirate ship was invisible,

nothing would be found but the mysteriously looted in abandoned Celestia. There was no longer any reason for concealing from her the fact that he himself was a member of the IFP, and Quirle told Lenore the adventurous life he and his companions had led, of forays to far away and as yet undisciplined Pluto, of tropical Venus and Mercury, where the rains never cease, of the hostile and almost unknown planet of Aril within the orbit of Mercury, where no man has ever seen a true image of the landscape

because of the stupendous and never-ending mirages. As time passed, they were drawn together by the bonds of propinquity and mutual interest. This obscure police officer and the daughter of one of the most power, for men in the solar system. The quarreled it not name his love, for always there was the grim present of their captivity, the ghastly uncertainty of the future. The little galley boy, Sorko, seemed daily more frail, apparently the fall he'd sustained had done him some internal injury. Often the guard, with many a ribald comment, had to help him get his emptied bowl back up that ladder. One day he seemed to overcome by great weakness.

Staggering, he owed his hand to his sweat-dewed forehead. Erratically he waltzed across the floor to crumple in the heat where Quirle and the girl were sitting. Moved by compassion, Lenore composed his body in a more comfortable position, and with a bit of handkerchief moist in the pirates wrinkled, old but young face, with some of Quirle's drinking water. The guard looked on indifferently. "'Guard,' quorish out of it. "'He's going to die.

"'Good, come and take him to the Lazarus. "'Says you,' returned the guard callously. "'Me, I stay on post till relieved. "'Sauco will be all right. "'He's been throwing them fits right regular.' "'Sauko's lips moved feebly, "'and Lenore bent down to catch his words. "'They were barely audible.

"'I'm all right, lady. You've done me a good turn when you make Gore put me down, and I'm doing you one now. I wouldn't do this for no one else, he gasped. Water! The North exclaimed sharply, and Quirle handed her the rest of his cup. Ain't water he wants, the amuse guard observed. The blood is playing for a good chew of myrcolite. Merkleider, highly stimulating gum, was prohibited by

interplanetary proclamation, but was always obtainable through the surreptitious channels of a highly profitable traffic. I ain't as bad as I'm making out, Sorker whispers. Got to do it to tell you this, because you were square with me. Gawr is fixing to have a mutiny. Kill the captain. Kill all these dubs here. This guy are yours, too.

Oh, he wants to take you for his... The wheezing little face twisted in an unwanted, shy, delicate. It's to take you for him, pretty lady. I don't want him to. I'm not a bad fellow. What the hell, Sorko? The puzzle guard exclaimed over the delay. You bandy-legged rat.

Get up here, I'll give you a job. Lenore looked up at him, indignant. You heartless wretch, would you let this man... I'm coming. Sorko, scrambling to his feet, shuffling to the table where he retrieved his bolt. Quirle and Lenore watched his painful progress up the ladder until at last he disappeared into the passage. Quirle, she murmured as her hand sought his. Take this. He felt a small bit of metal, and looking at it cautiously, saw that he had a rough key

fired out of a piece of flat metal. The key to that hoop around your waist. He covered it from the one the captain has, I suppose. His hopes high all at once, well sought the compact little lock in the small of his band. It took a long time to get the key, and then it wouldn't turn. It had been unskilfully made

and was probably not a true reproduction. Nevertheless, by constant effort, he succeeded at last in turning it, and was rewarded by hearing a faint click. He tested the hoop, felt it slip, and knew that at any sort of, time he chose he could free himself.

Lenora dear, he told her, go with the other women now. Must do nothing to make the guard suspicious. We don't know when this munity is to come off, but we're close to Saturn now, so it can't be long. Go now. Goodbye, dear. Be careful.

It seemed in eternity until the emanation disk became dim and went out, and the prisoners made sleepy sounds. A relief guard took stage. and the ship became silent so that one could hear the rumbling of the propelling rockets. As there were no ports in this hold, there was no light whatsoever except the faint glow that came from the central passage above the platform. Against this, the pirate was outlined as he sat on his stool. As Quirle's eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he could see the play of faint

highlights on his muscular torso, and so he waited. He got over the situation, the safest and easiest course would be to create such a disturbance that Captain Strom would be attracted to the scene. This would probably not involve anything more than a severe beating for himself. He then find opportunity to acquaint Strom with the projected mutiny somehow. That Strom would know how to deal with it, he never doubted. There all might then still be forcibly impressed as a citizen of Strom's new planet, but at least she would not be exposed to the infinitely worse fate of becoming a plaything of gore and his villainous crew. The flaw of this plan was that Quirle himself would still be under practical sentence of death.

Strom would not let his gratitude carry him so far as to release a man who knew as much as Quirled it, and who would not promise to keep his secrets. The preferable, a far more dangerous course, was to strike before the mutineers could. Quirle knew something about the structure of the ship. It was built around the tubular passage, and then, Every whole door group of rooms opened on this well, from the bow where the navigators were, to the stern where the rockets were located. Somewhere there'd be a generating room where the invisibility shield was being produced.

If he could find this and wreck the generators, one of the IFP ships with which this part of space was swamped would sight them, and after that everything was in the hands of fate. Gwell nervously waited for the guard to nod. any moment he expected to hear a hellish bedlam break loose the beginning of the mutant and the guard seemed to learn oh there was nothing to do but take a chance guel sighed as if he were turning in his sleep so that the clink of the released chain would not seem out of place the guard did not stir slowly very slowly quirled across the floor he'd been robbed of all his clothing except his torn silk trousers, and his boots were gone, so he was able to move

as quietly as a cat. With tense silence he ascended the ladder, praying that his weight would not send up a warning vibration, but his luck held. He was nearly at the top before it broke. Take him off! Take him off! It was an eerie, strangled shriek from one of the male prisoners in the throes of a nightmare. With a startled, curse the guard. thudded to his feet, peered tensely into the darkness, his weapons sending twin milky beams of the powerful ionizing ray toward the source of the sound. The dreamer had awakened, still gasping in the grip of fear, and other disturbed sleepers were grumbling. "'Ah, better go easy, you fools,' the pirate warned them. "'You're just in luck that I didn't let loose a couple of bolts on you. Got a good notion to do

it anyway. He played the dangerous little spots of light around, amused as the prisoners scrambled for safety, but with no real intention of releasing the deadly electric charge along the paths provided for it. This cruel pleasure cost him his life. As he turned his back, quor leaped. His iron-hard forearm rose and fell, and the edge of his hand came down on the back of the pirate's thick neck. There was a muffled crack and he slumped to the platform grating. Quickly the officer stripped off the man's harness and buckled it around his own naked chest. The electro gun had been uninjured and hooked to the belt was also the riot club, truly

appalling thing at close quarters. Quirl carried the body down, made it prone in the corner he'd occupied, snapped on the waistlock and threw a ragged old blanket over the hairy legs. the forthcoming disturbance, if anyone looked in, he would think it was the inert form of a sleeping prisoner, and that the guard had deserted his post. Quirle had feared an outbreak among the prisoners, that they were so apathetic that they paid little attention, and he did not even dare a whispered farewell to the girl he knew was watching somewhere in the darkness, much to Quirle's delight, a long tubular passage was deserted. Here the centrifugal gravity was less than it had been in the

hold. A weird place, this central tube, where every direction was down, and a man could walk on his ceiling, his floor, his walls with equal facility. No top nor bottom, just a long, smooth tube with numerous enigmatic doors leading to where exactly? At least it was easy to tell where the bow of the ship was. A light shone through a transom over the door to the navigating room. Should he try to hold up the navigating officer? Well, he decided against that. There'd be at least three men in there, and it was accustomed to keep those quarters locked. Oh, if only I knew where they generate the invisibility field, he muttered, as he stood irresolute.

Opportunity, though, came at that moment. A crack of light appeared along the passage. A door was opening there. A moment later a head and shoulder showed. Someone was climbing up. swiftly the officer ran to the place the pirate did not even suspect anything wrong until he felt the spots of milky light on his face and he showed his terror plainly get up now quirl hissed the man obeyed with alacrity quor glanced down he saw tears of bunks evidently this was one of the crew's dormitories he now turned to the cowering pirates hey i'd kill you as soon as not, Quill Snard.

You got me wrong, brother, the pirate wind. I'm with Gore in this deal. Lay off. Where are you bound for? I have to relieve Burke at the ventilating turbines. Let Burke wait. Lead me to the invisibility generators. I can't do that, mister.

I got to have a pass for that. It's a, Mr. I was just kidding about being one of Gore's men. I'm for the captain. Yes, sir. sir you lying scum well barked impatiently get going now the white-faced and bewildered pirate led the way down the tube to the other end he unlatched a door and tried to enter but as soon as he dropped through to the platform he was met by a guard with levied ionizer oh this gentleman he started to explain but quor dropped after him and gave him a powerful shove so that he crashed into the gun out. The latter pulled the trigger and the unfortunate pirate crashed over the platform's edge to the floor. Quirle had out his own electrogun and dispatched the guard. At the same time he felt a stunning shock.

His sense is reeled, but the grating had taken part of the discharge loosed by a pirate electrician at the foot of the ladder. Quirle threw his riot club and followed that up with another lightning bolt. he was then the only living person in the room in which two generators hummed softly connected to them was a bank of u-shaped tubes each as tall as a man which were filled with silent livid fire the quorl picked up a wrench and started hammering at the thick tubes until the glass cracked each time he was engulfed by a wave of heat and the tube became black The great generators idled and automatically came to a stop. Quirle was certain now that the pirate ship would be visible, but the position of the captus was still desperate. He hoped that none of the surviving pirates would think of calling at their generator room

or find out in some other way that they were now visible in the eternal day of space. Quietly, he climbed back to the passage and closed the hat. He cast about for his next move. He was looking toward the bow, but on hearing the subduke clink of metal on metal, he turned. A dozen of the pirates were coming toward him. But it would have been useless to draw his weapon. Theirs were out and could have burned him to a crisp before he could even move. Silently, the deadliness apparent in every move, they approached him.

I hope they tried to catch him alive, he thought. what a dogfight that'll be now they were nearly up to him come along you fool about the leader of the group as they were all around him sabers like you give the whole game away or quirl could have laughed this was evidently part of the mutineers crew

bent on their errand of murder in the dim light they'd taken him for one of their number he went with them meekly unlocked The leader whom Quirle had not seen before exclaimed with satisfaction. He poured the hatch open softly and the hinges have been oiled. Quietly as Panthers, they descended the ladder. They stood at the bottom.

Still another door barred their way. Quirle now realized that they were attacking the captain's quarters. But the leader produced a key and silently swung the door open. So, you dogs. now finally you've come like an unfurated bull captain Strom charged at them a riot club in each hand he could have killed them all with a ray but he chose to vent in physical action his consuming anger at their treachery which he had in some way anticipated three or four went sprawling under his mighty blows the others sought shelter behind tables and chests and began stubbing at him with their

electro guns. Electricity crackled, and the air became pungent with ozone. A pair of the twin ray struck the captain's gold braid, and he went down. With a triumphant yell, a man dashed at him, murderous club upraised. But Quirle was faster, and the pirate fell dead with a crushed skull. Now Strome was up again, fighting beside Quill. The pirates remaining fell under their furious blows, and the two dashed out. Strom said nothing, and Quirle was not sure that he'd been recognised. The captain charged straight for the navigating bow.

Here, unless he should be attacked by the AFP, he could still control the situation. He was perhaps still ignorant of the ship's visibility. But Quirle made for the prisoners halt. They'd be cowering there, probably in darkness, not knowing what was going on. It was his intention to run. rally them, provide them with the weapons of the fallen pirates, and so be in a position to

advantageously make turns with whoever was victorious in this battle. He saw, as he approached, that the light was on. It was hardly a dozen feet away when the door was darkened. The Gwirl did not have to hear a cry to know that Gore had Lenore. Running with remarkable speed, the mate carried his price toward the aft end of the tube. The hatch stood open there, and he dropped through, slamming it after him. Quirle picked up a bar that someone had dropped. It took but a matter of moments to break the lock and pull open the hatch. The hold was lighted and empty.

In its middle, holding the hapless Lenore, stood Gore, the electro gun in his hand, covering the platform. Boy Scout to the rescue again. Gorse kneed. He was even more repulsive than before, with the marks quarrel left on him in the last battle. But he was fearless and utterly reckless. Well, my lad, I know what I'm done. And when a fellow's done, he doesn't care what happens. So here's the deal.

When I get out of here, I'll be dead, and she'll be dead. Oh, you'll wish she was. Get it. She'll be killed, too. If you jolt me, the shock will pass to her. And the first man-jack who crosses that grading will get this from me. Now then, go ahead. Gonna kill us both?

We'll leave her to me. He then laughed defiantly, like one who counts himself already dead. Quirled tentatively placed one foot on the platform. Instantly a fat spark jumped from the metal to his foot and sent him sprawling into the tube. He saw Strom coming toward him. He'd killed his enemies in the control room, and was now on the hunt for more. Thanks for what you did, he grunted.

As a forlorn hope, Quirle explained the situation. And Strom smiled a rare smile. That's all right, he said mildly. Quirle, you are a square man. I'd rather do something for a square enemy than a false friend. Oh, and I can do it cheaply. the jig's up for me anyway quickly he dropped through the door and launched himself gore saw him coming and strom's body shuddered as the bolt struck squarely he was dead by the time he hit but his great weight knocked gore down quill had time to jump after him

knocking the wind out of gore before he could rise l'inor picked up gore's weapon but dared not use it for fear of injuring her lover as the two fighting men circled warily, seeking openings in this battle that must be fatal to one of them. They didn't see the slight, shadowy figure that dropped down to them. There was a sudden flash, and Gore slumped a knife in his back. I'd done it. I'd done it for him, chatted Sorko. That dirty, lousy. Come, Lenore, let's go up to the bow,

before the pirates think of it. They dashed up the ladder. Some more of the discs were out now when it was nearly dark. Three sinewy forms pounced on Quor the moment he entered the passage. The girl too was caught. Oh, she fought and she bit. Lights. Let's have some lights, commanded an authoritative voice. Come in, sir, came a faraway answer. The passage then became bright, and Quirle looked into the faces of his captives, wearing the uniforms of the IFP. Got you, yet dirty pirate, gloated the husky young man on his chest. Mike, Gwell gasped. Don't you know me?

How did you get here? Oh, doggone, Finner. He let go of his legs, you fools. We trailed you, he added. glommed out magnets on the navigating bell. We're expected to fight, but some big guy led us in through an airlock. Well, he'd done plenty of scrap-in. All the clothes torn off of him.

Half a dozen dead pirates in there. Who was he? Quinn thought of the stiffening body of Lieutenant Burroughs, alias, Captain Strom, who had just bought his life and that of Lenore at the cost of his own. Was his undeserved shame now to follow him to his grave? Quirl was no lawyer, and he decided not to take any chances with the law's mercy. And so he said, I don't know his name.

A prisoner from some of the ship, I think. He was really homesick for Earth, and I'll see he gets a decent grave back there. He died to save him. As for the lady, he added, a little go, she's a captive, and anyway, I think she's the future Mrs. Quirle Finner. She smiled. and the men of the force looked somewhat enviously at Gwell. Say, Gwell said, taking Lenore's hand and anxious to be rid of them.

If you, um, find a little monkey-faced guy down in that hold, go easy on him. He's a good man, too, and I'm going to recommend his pardon. The dark side of Antri, Lassoul Peasley Wright. Commander John Hanson relates an interplanetary adventure, illustrating the splendid service spirit of the men of the special patrol. An officer of the Special Patrol Service dropped in to see me the other day. He was a young fellow, very sure of himself and very kindly towards an old man. He was doing a monograph, he said, for his own amusement,

upon the early forms of our present offensive and defensive weapons. Could I tell him about the first dubasphires and the earlier disintegrator rays and the crude atomic bombs we tried back when I first entered the service? I could, of course, and I did. But a man's memory does not improve. in the course of a century of earth years. Our scientists have not been able to keep a man's brain as fresh as his body, despite all their vaunted progress.

There's a lot of these deep thinkers in their great laboratories don't know. The universe gives them the credit for what's been done, yet the men of action who carried out the ideas, oh, I'm getting away from my parrot young officer. He listened to me with interest and toleration. Now and then he helped me out, when my memory failed me on. some little detail. He seemed to have a very fair theoretical knowledge of the subject. It seems impossible, he commented when he'd gone over the ground he'd outlined, that the service

could have done its work with such crude and undeveloped weapons, does it not? He smiled in a superior sort of way, as though to imply we'd probably done the best we could under the circumstances. I suppose I should not have permitted his attitude to irritate me, but I'm an old man, my life has not been an easy one. Youngster, I said, like many old people, I prefer spoken conversation. Back in those days, the service was handicapped in every way. We lacked weapons, we lack instruments, we lack popular support and backing. But we had men in those days who did their work with the tools that were at hands.

And we did it well. Yes, sir, the youngster said hastily. after all a retired commander in the special patrol service does rate a certain amount of respect even from these pesky youngsters i know that sir it was the efforts of men like yourself who gave us the proud traditions we have today well that's hardly true i corrected him i'm not quite so old as that we had a fine set of traditions when i entered the service son but we did our share to carry them on i'll grant you that nothing less than complete success quoted the lad reverently giving the ancient motto of our service that is a fine tradition for a body of men to aspire to sir true true the ring in the boy's voice brought memories flocking back it was a proud motto as old as i am the words bring a thrill even now a thrill comparable only with that which comes from seeing old earth swell up out of the darkness of space after days of outer emptying

Old earth, with her wispy white clouds in our broad seas. Oh, no one I'm a provincial, but that's another thing that must be forgiven an old man. I imagine, sir, said the young officer, that you could tell many a strange story of the service, and the sacrifices men have made to keep that motto the proud boast it is today. Yep, I told him. I couldn't do that. I have done so. That is my occupation now that I've been retired from action.

service. I, you're a historian? He broke in eagerly. I forgave him the interruption. I can still remember my own, rather impetuous youth. Do I look like a historian? I think I smiled as I asked him the question and held out my hands to him. Big brown hands they are, hardened with work, stained and drawn from old acrid burns and a bite of blue electric fire. In my day, we were with crude tools instead tools that left their mark upon the workmen no but I waved the explanation aside historians deal with facts with accomplishments the dates and places and the names are great men I write well what little I do write of man and high adventures so that in this time of softness and easy living some few who may read my scribblings may live with me those days when the

the worlds of the universe were strange to each other, and there were many new things to be found and marvelled at. Well, a venture, sir, that he found much enjoyment in the work, commented the youngster with a degree of perception with which I had not credited him. True, as I write, forgotten faces peer of me through the mists of the years, and strong, friendly voices called to me from out of the past. I must be wonderful to live the old adventures through again, said the young often. so hastily. Youth is always afraid of sentiment in old people. Why there should be, I do not know,

but it is so. The lad, I wish I had made a note of his name, I predict a future for him in the service. Left me alone, then, with the thoughts he'd stirred up in my mind. Old faces, old voices, old scenes, too. Strange worlds, strange peoples, a hundred, thousand different times. lungs, men that came only to my knee and men that towered ten feet above my head. Creatures possessed of all the attributes of men except physical form that belonged only in the nightmare realms of sleep. An old man's most treasured possessions, it is manless. A face drew close out of the flocking recollections, the face of a man I'd known and loved more than a brother for so many years. Dear God, how many years ago? Anderson,

I'll search all the voluminous records of the bearded historians and you will not find his name. No great figure of history was this friend of mine, just an obscure officer and an obscure ship the special patrol service. And yet, there is a people who owe him their very existence. I wonder if they've forgotten him. It wouldn't surprise me. The memory of the universe is not a reliable thing. "'Handerson Croy was, like most of the other officer personnel of the Special Patrol Service,

"'a native of Earth. "'I tried to make a stoop-shouldered dabbler in formulas out of him, "'but he was not the stuff from which good scientists are moulded. "'He was young when I first knew him, and strong. "'He had marble blue eyes and a quick smile, "'and he had a fine, steely courage that a man could love. "'I was in command then, of the air-top, my second ship. I inherited Anderson Croy with the ship

and I liked him for the first time I laid eyes upon him As I recall it We worked together on the airtac for nearly two years Earth time We went through some tight places together I remember our experience Shortly after I took over the airtack

On the monstrous planet Calo Whose tiny gentle people were attacked by strange Vapid things that came down upon them From the fastness of the polar cap And But I wonder from the story I wish to tell here. An old man's mind is a weak and weary thing that totters and weaves from side to side. Like a worn-out ship, it's hard to keep on a straight course.

We were out on one of those long, monotonous patrols, skirting the outer boundaries of the known universe that were, at that time, before the building of all the many stations we have today, a dreaded part of the special patrol service routine. Not once had we landed to stretch our legs. Slowing up to atmospheric speed took time, and we were on a schedule that allowed no waste of even minutes. We approached the various worlds only close enough to report,

and to receive an assurance that all was well. A dog's life, but all part of the game. My log showed nearly a hundred all as well reports, as I remember it, when we slid up to Antri, which was, so far as size is concerned, one of the smallest ports of call. Arntry, I might add, for the benefit of those who have forgotten their maps of the universe. It's a satellite of A411, which in turn is one of the largest bodies of the universe, both uninhabited and uninhabitable. Arn'try is somewhere larger than the moon, Earth satellite, and considerably farther from its controlling body. Report our presence, Mr. Croy.

I ordered wearily, and please ask Mr. Corrie to keep a sharp watch on the attraction meter. These huge bodies such as A411 are not pleasant companions at space speeds. A few minutes' trouble. Spaceships gave trouble in those days, and you melted like a drop of solder when you struck the atmospheric belt. Yes, sir. There was never a crisper young officer than Croy. I bent over my tables, working out our position and charting our course for the next period. Within a few seconds, Croy was back, his blue eyes gleaming.

Sir, an emergency is reported on Entry. We had to make all possible speed to Oreo, their governing city. I gather that it's very important. Very well, Mr. Caw. I can't say the news was unwelcome. Monotony kills young men. Have the disintegrator ray generators inspected and tested. Turn out the watch below in such time that we may have all hands on due,

when we arrive. If there is an emergency, we should be prepared for it. I should be with Mr. Corrie in the navigating room. If there are any further communications, relay them to me there. I then hurried up to the navigating room and gave Corrie his orders. Do not reduce speed until it's absolutely necessary, I concluded. We have an emergency call from Antri, and minutes may be important. How long do you make it to Arium? About an hour of to the atmosphere, see an hour more to sit down in the city. I believe that's about right, sir. I nodded, frowning at the twin charts, with their softly glowing lights, and turned to the television disc, picking up Antry without difficulty. Of course, back in those days we had the huge and

cumbersome discs, their faces shielded by a hood that will be suitable only for museum pieces now. But they did the work very well, and I searched Antri carefully at varying ranges for any sign of disturbances, and I found none. The dark portion, of course, I could not penetrate. Antry has one portion of its face that is turned forever from its sun, and one half that is bathed in perpetual light. The long twilight zone was uninhabited, but the people of Antri are a sun-loving race, and their cities and villages appeared only in the bright areas of perpetual light. natural sunlight. Just as we'd reduced to atmospheric speed, Kroy sent up a message. The governing council sends word that we're to set down on the platform atop the hall of government, a large

square white building in the center of the city. They say we'll have no difficulty in locating it. I thanked him and ordered him to stand by for further messages, if any, and picked up the far-flung city of Oreo in my television disc. There was no mistaking that building Kroy had mentioned. It stood out from the city around it, cool and white, its mighty columns glistening like crystal in the sun. I could even make out the landing platform, slightly elevated above the roof on spidery arches of silvery metal. We sped straight for the city, just a fraction of space speed, but the hand of the surface temperature gauge crept slowly toward the red line that marked the dangerous incandescent point. I saw that Corey, like the good navigating officer he was, was watching the air.

gauge as closely as myself and hence said nothing we both knew that entrians would not have sent a corps for help to a ship with a special patrol service if there hadn't been a real emergency Corrie had made a good guess in saying that it would take about an hour after entering the gaseous envelope of entree to reach our destination it was just a few minutes of earth time of course less than that when we settled gently onto the landing platform a group of six or seven entrians dignified old men, wearing the short, loosely belted white robes that we found, where their universal costume were waiting for us at the exit of the air-tide, whose sleek, smooth sides were glowing, dull red.

You have hastened, and that is well, sirs, said the spokesman of the committee. You find an entry in dire needs. He spoke in the universal language, and spoke it softly and perfectly. But you will pardon me for greeting you with that which is of necessity, uppermost in my mind and in the minds of these my companions permit me to welcome you to and to introduce those who extend those greetings rapidly he ran through a list of names and each of the men bow gravely in acknowledgment of our greetings i've never observed a more courteous nor a more courtly people than the antrians their manners are as beautiful as their faces

whilst of all their spokesman introduced himself Bori Tulba he was called and he had the honour of being master of the council the chief executive of Entry When the introductions have been completed The committee led our little party to a small cylindrical elevator Which dropped us swiftly and silently On a cushion of air

To the street level of the great building Across a wide, gleaming corridor How conductors led us and stood aside before a massive portal through which ten men might have walked abreast. We found ourselves in a great chamber with a vaulted ceiling of bright, gleaming metal. The far end of the room was an elevated rostrum, flanked on either side by huge, intricate masses of statuary, of some creamy, translucent stone that glowed as with some inner light. Semi-circular roads of seats, each with its carved desk,

surmounted by numerous electrical controls, occupied all the floor space. None of the seats were occupied. We have excused the Council from our preliminary deliberations, explained Boritolba, because such a large body is unwieldy. My companions and myself represent the executive heads of the various departments of the Council, and we are empowered to act.

He led us through the great council chamber, and into an ante-room, beautifully decorated, and furnished with exceedingly comfortable chairs. Be seated, sirs. The master of the council suggested. We obeyed silently, and Boritulah stood before, gazing thoughtfully into space. I do not know where just to begin, he said slowly. You men in uniform know, I presume, but little of this world of ours.

I presume I had best begin far back. Since you are navigators of space, undoubtedly you are acquainted with the fact that Antri is a world divided into two parts. one of perpetual night and the other of perpetual day due to the fact that Antri revolves but once upon its axis during the course of its circuit of its sun, thus presenting always the same face to our luminary. We have no day and night, such as is obtained on other spheres. There are no set hours for working, nor for sleeping, nor for pleasure. The measure of a man's work is the measure of his ambition or his strength or his desire, is also with

his sleep and with his pleasures. It is, it has been a very pleasant arrangement. Ours is a fertile country and our people live very long, very happily with little effort. We have believed that ours were the nearest of all the worlds to the ideal, but nothing could disturb the peace and happiness of our people. But we were mistaken. There is a dark sight to our tree, a side of which the sun has never shown, A dismal place of gloom, which is like the night upon other worlds. No Antrient to our knowledge has ever penetrated this part of Antri and lived to tell his experience.

We do not even till the land close to the Twilight Zone. Why should we when we have so much fine land upon which the sun shines bright and fair always, save for the two brief seasons of rain? We have never given thought to what might be on the dark face of Antri. and light are things unknown to us. We know of them only from the knowledge which has come to us from other worlds, and now, now we have been brought face to face with the terrible danger which comes to us from the other side of this sphere. A people have grown there, the terrible people that I shall not try to describe to you. They threaten us with slavery, with extinction. Four

a hour ago, the Antrians have their own system. with reckoning time, just as we have on Earth, instead of using the universal system based upon the Enaro. And Ara corresponds to about fifty hours Earth time. Four hour ago, we did not know that such a people existed. Now their shadow is upon all our beautiful sunny country. And unless you can aid us, before other help can reach us, I am convinced that Antri is doom. For a moment, not one of us spoke.

We sat there, staring at the old man who had just ceased speaking. Only a man ripened and seasoned with the passing of years could have stood there before us and uttered so quietly and solemnly words such as have just come from his lips. Only in his eyes could we catch a glimpse of the torment which gripped his song. Sir, I said, and have never felt younger than at that moment, when I tried to frame some assurance to this splendid old man who would turn to me and my youthful crew for succor. We shall do what it lies within our power to do. But tell us more of this danger which threatens.

But I'm no man of science, and yet I cannot see how men could live in a land never reached by the sun. There will be no heat, no vegetation. Is that not so? Oh, what that it were! replied the master of the council bitterly. What you say would indeed be the truth, were it not for the great river and seas of our sunny Antry, which bear their heated waters to this dark portion of our world, and make it habitable. As for this danger, there is little to be said. At some time, many of our country, men who fish or venture upon the watering commerce,

have been born all unwillingly across the shadowy twilight zone into the land of darkness. They did not come back, but they were found there and despoiled of their menors. Somehow these creatures who dwell in darkness determined the use of the menor, and now that they have resolved that they shall rule all this fear, they have been able to make their threat clear to us. Perhaps, and Borytola smiled faintly, unterribly. He would like to have that message direct from its bearer. "'Is that possible, sir?' I asked eagerly, glancing around the room.

"'How? Come with me,' said the master of the council gently. "'Alone, for too many near him, excites this terrible messenger. You have your menor? No, I had not thought there would be need of it. All the minors of those days, it should be remembered, to a heavy, cumbersome circlets that were worn upon the head like a sort of crown, and one did not go equipped unless in real need of the device. Now, today, of course, your minors are but jeweled trinkets that convey thought a score of times more effectively, and way about a tenth as much. Oh, it is a lack easily remedied.

Bore to all the then excuse himself a little bow and hurried out into the great council chamber to appear again in a moment with a menor in either hands. Now if your companions and mine will excuse us for a moment. He smiled around the seated group apologetically. There was a murmur of assent, and the old man opened a door in the earthless side of the room. It is not far, he says. I will go first and show you the way.

It led me quickly down a long, narrow corridor to a pair of steep stairs that circled far down into the very foundation of the building. The walls of the corridor and the stairs were without windows, but were as bright as noon day, from the ethon tubes which were set into both ceiling and walls. Silently we circled our way down the spiral stairs, and silently the master of the council paused before a door at the bottom, a door of dull red metal. This is the keeping place of those who come before the council charged with wrongdoing,

explained Bori Toulba. His fingers rested upon and pressed to see. certain of a ring of small white buttons in the face of the door, and it opened swiftly and noiselessly. We entered, and the door closed behind us with a soft thud. "'Behold one of those who live in the darkness,' said the master of the council grimly. "'Do not put on the menor until you have a grip upon yourself. I would not have him know how greatly he disturbs us.' I nodded dumbly, holding the heavy manure dangling in my hand. I've said that I've beheld strange worlds and strange people in my life, and it is true that I have.

I've seen the headless people of that red world, Irrallo, the ant people, the dragonfly people, the terrible carnivorous trees of L472, and the pointed heads of a people who live upon a world which may not be named. But I've still to see a more terrible creature than that which lay before me now. He or it was reclined. upon the floor for the reason that he could not have stood no room save one with a vaulted ceiling such as the great council chamber could offer room enough for this creature to walk erect he was roughly a shade better than twice my height

yet I believe he would have weighed but little more you've seen rankweeds that have grown up in the darkness to reach the sun if you can imagine a man who were done likewise you can perhaps picture that which I saw before me His legs at the thigh were no larger than my arm. His arms were but half the size of my wrist, and jointed it twice instead of once. He wore a careless garment of some dirty, yellow, shaggy hide, and his skin revealed on feet and arms and face

was a terrible, bloodless white, the dead white of a fish's belly, maggot white, the white of something that had never known the sun. The head was small, and round with features that were a caricature of man's. His ears were huge and had the power of movement, so they cocked forward as we entered the room. The nose was not prominently arched, but the nostrils were wide and very thin, as was his mouth, which was faintly tinged with dusky blue instead of healthy red.

At one time his eyes had been nearly round, and in proportion very large, but now they were but shadowy pockets, mercifully covered by shrunken, wrinkled lids that twitched but did not live. He moved as we entered, and from a reclining position cropped up on the double elbows of one spidery arm. He changed to a sitting position that brought his head nearly to the ceiling. He smiled sickeningly, and a queer, sibilant whispering came from the blush lips. That is his way of talking, explained Bori Tulba. His eyes, you will note, have been gouged out. They cannot stand the light.

They prepared their messenger carefully for his work, and you'll see. He placed his manure upon his head, and motioned me to do likewise. The creature searched the floor with one white, leathery hand, and finally located his manure, which he adjusted clumsily. He will have to be very attentive, explain my companion. He expresses himself in terms of pictures only, of course, and his is not a highly developed mind. I shall try to get him to go over the entire story for us again,

if I can make him understand. Eminate nothing yourself. He is easily confused. I nodded silently, my eyes fixed with a sort of satisfaction upon the creature from the darkness, and waited. Back on the air-tuck again, I called all my offices together for a conference.

Gentlemen, I said, we're confronted with a problem of such gravity that I doubt my ability to describe it clearly. Briefly, this civilized, beautiful portion of Entry is menaced by a terrible fate. In the dark portion of this unhappy world, there live a people who have the lust of conquest in their hearts and the means at hand with which to wreck this world of perpetual sunlight. I have the ultimatum of this people direct from their messenger. They want a terrible tribute in the form of slaves. These slaves would have to live in perpetual darkness,

and wait upon the whims of the most monstrous beings these eyes of mine have ever seen. A number of slaves demanded would, as nearly as I could gather, mean about a third of the entire population. Further tribute in the form of sufficient food to support these slaves is also demanded. But in God's name, sir, burst forth, Croix, his eyes blazing. By what means do they propose to enforce their infamous demands? By the power of darkness and the terrible cataclysm.

Their wise men, and it would seem that some of them are not unversed in science, have discovered a way to unbalance this world, so that they can cause darkness to creep over this land that has never known it before. And as darkness advances, these people of the sun will be utterly humble, helpless before a race that loves darkness and can see it like cats. That gentleman is the fate which confronts this world of entry. There was a ghastly silence from a moment, and then Croy, always impetuous, spoke up again. How do you propose to do this thing, sir?

He asked, hoarsely, with devilish simplicity. They have a great canal dug nearly to the great polar cap of ice. should they complete it, the hot waters of their seas will be liberated upon this vast ice-field, and the warm waters would melt it quickly. If you've not forgotten your lessons, gentlemen, you'll remember, since most of you are from Earth, that our scientists tell us our own world turned over in much this same fashion, from natural means, and established for itself new poles. Is that not true? Grave, almost frightened nods, travelled around a little semicircle of white,

thoughtful faces. Is there nothing, sir, that we can do? Asked King Cade, my second officer, in an awed whisper. That is the purpose of this conclave, to determine what may be done. We have our bombs and our rays, it's true, but what is the power of this one ship

against the people of half a world? And, ooh, such a people. I shuddered, despite myself, that the memory of that grinning creature in the cell far below the floor of the council chamber, This city and its thousands we might save. It is true, but not the whole half of this world. That's the task, the council, and its master have said before us.

Would it be possible to frighten them? asked Croy. I gather that they're not an advanced race. Perhaps a show of power. The race, the atomic pistol, bombs. I'll call it strategy, sir, or just plain bluff. Seems like the only chance. You've heard the suggestion, gentlemen. I said, is anyone a better?

How does Mr. Croy plan to frighten these people of the darkness? Asked Kade, who was always practical. By going to that country and this ship and letting the events take their course, replied Croy, promptly. Details will have to be settled on the spot as I see it. I believe Mr. Croy is right, I decided. The messenger of these people must be returned to his own kind, the sooner the better. He's given me a mental map of his country. I believe it will be possible for me to locate the principal city in which his ruler lives.

We'll take him there and then, may God aid us, gentlemen. Amen, nodded crying, and the echo of the word ran from lip to lip like the prayer it was. Well, when do we start? I hesitated for just an instant. Now, I brought forth Christian. immediately we're gambling with the fate of a world a fine and happy people let us throw the dice quickly but the strain of waiting will not help us is that as you would wish it gentlemen it is sir came the grave of course very well mr croy please report with a detail of ten men to barri tulba

and tell him of our decision bring the messenger back with you the rest of you gentlemen to your stations. Make any preparations you may think advisable. Be sure that every available exterior light is in readiness. Let me be notified the moment the messenger is on board and we're ready to take off. Thank you, gentlemen. I hasten to my quarters and brought the air tax log down to the minute, explaining in detail the course of action we decided upon and the reasons for it. I knew, as did all the air tax officers who'd saluted so closely and so coolly gone about it. the business of carrying our my orders that we will return from our trip to the dark side of an tree triumphant awe well not at all even in these soft days men still respect the stern proud

motto of our service nothing less than complete success the special patrol does what it is ordered to do or no man returns to present excuses this is a tradition to bring tears of pride to the eyes of even an old man, whose hands their strength only for the wielding of a pen. And when I was in Young, well, in those days, it was perhaps a quarter of an hour when word came from the navigating room

that the messenger was aboard, and we were ready to depart. I closed the log, wondering, I remember, if I would ever make another entry therein, and if not, whether the words I'd just inscribed would ever see the light of day. A love of life is strong in men so young.

Then I hurried to the navigating room and took charge. Bori Tulba had furnished me with large-scale maps of the daylight portion of Antry. From the information conveyed to me by the messenger of the people of darkness, the chizzy they called themselves, as near as I could get to the sound, I rapidly sketched in the map of the other side of Antry, locating their principal city with a small black circle, realizing that the location of the city we sought was only approximate we didn't bother to work out exact bearings we set the airtack on her course at a height of only a few thousand feet

set out at low atmospheric speed anxiously watching for the dim line of shadow that marked the twilight zone and the beginning of what promised to be the last mission of the airtuck and every man she carried within her smooth gleaming body Twilight Zone in view, sir, reported Croy at length. Thank you, Mr. Croy. Of all the exterior lights and searchlights turned on, speed and course has a present for the time being. I picked up the Twilight Zone without difficulty in the television disc,

and at full power examined the terrain. The rich crops that fairly burst from the earth of the sunlit portion of Antry were not to be observed here. The Entrians made no effort to till this ground, and I doubt that it would have been profitable to do so even if they'd wished to come so close to the darkness they hated. The ground seemed dank, and great dark slugs moved heavily upon its greasy surface. Here and there strange pale growth grew in patches, twisted, spotty growth that seemed somehow unhealthy and poisonous. I searched the country ahead, pressing further and further into the line of darkness that was swiftly approaching.

As the light of the sun faded, our monstrous searchlights cut into the gloom ahead, their great beams slashing the shadows. In the dark country, I'd expect it to find little, if any, vegetable growth. Instead, I found that it was a veritable jungle through which our searchlight rays could not pass. How tall the growth of this jungle might be, I could not tell, yet I had the feeling that they were tall indeed. There were not trees, these pale, weedy arms that reached towards the sky. They were soft and pulpy, and without leaves, just long, naked, sickly arms that divided

and subdivided and ended in little smooth stumps like amputated limbs. But there was some kind of activity within the shelter of this weird jungle was evident enough, for I could catch glimpses now and then of moving things. But what they might be, even the searching eye of the television disc could not determine. One of our searchlight beams, waving through the darkness like the curious antenna of some monstrous insect, came to rest upon a spot far ahead. I followed the beam of the disc and bent closer to make sure my eyes did not deceive me. I was looking at a vast, cleared place in the pulpy jungle, a cleared space in the centre of which there was a city. A city built of black, sweating stone, each house exactly like every other house.

Tall, thin slices of stone, without windows, chimneys, or ornamentation of any kind. The only break in the walls was the slit-like door of each house. Instead of being arranged along streets, crossing each other at right angles, these houses were built in concentric circles broken only by four narrow streets that ran from the open space in the centre of the city to the four points of the compass. Around the entire city was an exceedingly high wall built off and buttressed with the black sweating stone of which the houses were constructed. But it was a densely populated city, there was ample evidence.

People, they were creatures like the messenger. The cheesy are people, despite their terrible shape, is hardly debatable. They were running up and down the four radial streets, and around the curved connecting streets in the wildest confusion. Their double-elboard arms flung across their eyes. But even as I watched, the crowd thinned and melted swiftly away, until the streets of the queer circular city were utterly deserted. That city ahead is not one we're seeking, sir?

Asked Croy, who had evidently been observing the scene through one of the smaller television discs. I take it that the governing city will be further into the interior. According to my rather sketchy information, yes, I replied. However, keep all the searchlight operators busy, gone over every bit of the country within the reach of their beams. You have men on all the auxiliary television discs, Yes, sir. Good.

Any findings of interest should be reported to me instantly. Oh, and Mr. Croyd? Yes, sir. You might order, if you will, that rations be served to all men of their posts. Over such country as this, I felt it would be wise to have every man ready for an emergency. It was, perhaps, as well, that I issued this order. It was perhaps half an hour after we'd pass the circular city when, Far ahead, I could see the pale, unhealthy forest thinning out.

A half-dozen of our searchlight beams played upon the denuded area, and as I brought the television disc to bear, I saw that we were approaching a vast swamp, in which little pools of black water reflected the dazzling light of our searching beans. Nor was this all. Out of the swamp a thousand strange, winged things were rising, yellowish, bat-like things with forked tails and trees. fierce hooked beaks and like some obscene myasma from that swamp they rose and came straight for the

air-tuff instantly i pressed the attention signal that warned every man on the ship all disintegrator rays in action at once i barked into the transmitter raw beams and full energy bird-like creatures dead ahead do not cease action until orders i heard the disintegrator ray generators deepen their notes before i speaking and I smiled grimly turning to Corrie slow down as quickly and as much as possible mr. Corrie I ordered we have work to do ahead he nodded and gave the order to the operating room I felt the forward surge that told me my order was being obeyed and turned my attention again to the television disc the ray operators were doing their work well the searchlight showed the air street with fine siftings of greasy dust

these strange winged creatures were disappearing by the scores as the disintegrator rays beat and played upon them but they came on gamely fiercely where there had been thousands they were but hundreds and scores and dozens then there were only five left three of them disappeared at once but the two remaining came on unhesitatingly their dirty yellow bat-like wings flapping heavily their naked heads outstretched and hooked beak snapping. One of them disappeared in a little sifting of greasy dust, and the same ray dissolved one wing of the remaining creature. He turned over suddenly, the one good wing flapping wildly, and tumbled towards the waiting swamp that had spawned him. Then, as the ray eagerly

followed him, the last of that hellish brood disappeared. Soapled slowly, Mr. Corry, I ordered. I wanted to make sure there were none of these terrible creatures left. I felt that nothing so terrible should be left alive, even in the world of darkness. Through the television disc, I searched the swamp. As I'd half suspected, the filthy ooze held the young of this race of things, grub-like creatures that flip their heavy bodies about in the slime, alarmed by the light which searched them out. All disintegrated rays on the swamp,

I ordered. Sweep it from margin to margin. Let nothing be left alive there. I had a well-trained crew. The disintegrator rays massed themselves into a marching wall of death and swept up and down the swamp as a plough turns its furrows. It was easy to trace their passage, for behind them the swamp disappeared, leaving in its stead row after row of broad, dusty paths. When we'd finished, there was no swamp. There was only a little swamp. There was only a little. only a naked area upon which nothing lived and upon which for many years nothing would grow good work i commended the disintegrator rayman cease action and then to corey put her on course again please an hour went by and we passed several more of the strange damp circular cities differing from the

first we'd seen only in the matter of size another hour passed and i became anxious if If we were on our proper course and I had understood the Chesey messenger correctly, we should be very close to the governing city. We sure. The waving beam of one of the searchlights came suddenly to rest. Three or four other beams followed it, and then all the others. Large city to port, sir, called Croy excitedly. Thank you.

I believe it is our destination. Could all searchlights except the forward beam, Mr. Corry? Yes, sir. You can take her over visually now, I believe. The forward searchlight beam will keep our destination in view for you, set her down cautiously in the center of the city in any suitable place, and remain at the controls ready for any orders, and have the operating room crew do likewise.

Yes, sir, said Corrie crisply. With the tenseness I could not control. I bent over the hooded television disc and studied. the mighty governing city of the chaisee. This governing city of the chaisee was not unlike the others we'd seen, save that it was very much larger and eight spoke-like streets radiating from its centre instead of four. The protective wall was both thicker and higher.

There was another difference. Instead of a great open space in the centre of the city, there was a central park-like space, in the middle of which was a massive pile, circular in shape, built, like all of the the rest of the city off the black, sweating rock, which seemed to be the sole building material of the Chesa. We set the air-tuck down close to the big circular building, which we guessed, and correctly, to be the seat of government. I ordered the searchlight ray to be extinguished the moment we landed, and the ethon tubes that illuminated our ship inside to be turned off, so that we might accustom our eyes as much as possible to darkness, finding our way about

with small eton tube flashlights. For the small guard, I stood at the forward exit of the air-tuck, and watched the huge circular door back out on its mighty threads, and finally swing to one side on its massive gimbals. Groi, the only officer with me, and I both wore our menors, and carried full expeditionary equipment, as did the guard. The Chesee messenger, grimacing and talking excitedly in his sibilant, whispering voice, crouched on all falls.

Well, he couldn't stand in that small space and waited. Three men of the guard on either side of him. I placed his menor on his head and gave him simple, forceful orders, picturing them for him as best I could. Go from this place and find others of your kind. Tell them that we'd like to speak to them

with things such as you have upon your head. Now run swiftly. I will run, he conveyed to me, to those great ones who sent me. He pictured them fleetingly, and they were creatures like himself, save that they were elaborately dressed in fine skins of several pale colors

and wore upon their arms, between their two elbows, broad circlets of carved metal, which I took to be emblems of power or authority, since the chief of them all wore a very broad band. Their faces were much more intelligent than their messenger had led me to expect, and their eyes, very large and round, and not at all human, or the eyes of thoughtful, reasoning creatures.

Double on all fours, the Chaysee crept through the circular exit and straightened up. As he did so, from out of the darkness, a score or more of his fellows rushed up, gathering around him and blocking the exit with their reedy legs. We could hear them talking excitedly in high-pitched squeaky whispers. Then, suddenly I had a little bit of a little bit of their reedy legs. received an expression from the chisee who wore them anon those who are with me have come for those in power they say one of you and one only is to come with us to our big men who will learn through a thing such as i wear upon my head that which you wish to say to them you are to come quickly at once i will come

i replied have those with you make way my heavy hand fell upon my shoulder, and a voice spoke eagerly in my ear. Sir, you must not go. It was Croy, and his voice shook with feeling. You're in command of the air-attack. She and those in her need you. Let me go. I insist, sir.

I turned then, in the darkness, quickly and angrily. Mr. Croy, I said swiftly. Do you realize that you're speaking to your commanding officer? I felt his grip tighten on my arm as the reproof struck home. Yes, sir, he said doggily. I do, but I repeat that your duty commands you to remain here. The duty of the commander in this service leads him to the place of greatest danger, Mr. Croix. I informed him.

Then stay with your ship, sir, he pleaded craftily. This may be some trick to get you away, so that they may attack us. please can't you see that i'm right sir my thought swiftly the earnestness of the youngster had touched me beneath the formality and the sirs there was a real affection between us in the darkness i reached for his hand i found it and shook it solemnly a gesture of earth which it's hard to explain has many meanings go then andy i said softly but do not stay long an hour of the longest if you're not back in that length of time we'll come after you and whatever else may happen you can be sure that we will be well avenged the airtack is not lost to a stinger thank you john he replied remember that i shall wear my menorve if i adjust it to full power and you do likewise and stand without the shelter of the airtack's metal hull i shall be able to communicate with you should there be any danger. Then press my hand again and strove through the exit out into the darkness, which was

lit only by a few distant stars. The long, slim legs closed in around him, like a pygmy guarded by the skeletons of giants. He was led quickly away. The minutes dragged by. There was a nervous tension on the ship, the life of which I have experienced not more than a dozen times in all my years. No one spoke aloud. Now and again one man would mutter uneasily to another, and there'd be a swift muttered response, and then silence again. We were waiting. Waiting.

Ten minutes went by. Twenty. Thirty. Impatiently I paced up and down before the exit. The guards at their posts ready to obey any orders instantly. Forty-five minutes. I walk through the air. exit stepped out onto the cold hard earth i could see behind me the shadowy bulk of the airtime before me a black

shapeless blot against the star sprinkled sky it was the great administrative building of the g-seed and in there somewhere was anderson croix i glanced down at the luminous dial of my watch 50 minutes and 10 minutes more John Hanson My name reached me Faintly but clearly Through the medium of my menor

This is Croyd Do you understand me? Yes I replied instantly Are you safe? I am safe All is well Very well

Would you promise me now to receive What I'm about to send Without interruption Yes, I replied thoughtlessly and eagerly. What is it? I've had a long conference with the chief or head of the Chessis. He explained Croy rapidly. He's very intelligent, and his people are much further advanced than we thought.

Through some form of communication, he's learned of the fight with the weird birds. It seems that they were the most dreaded of all the creatures of this dark world. Apparently we got the whole brood of them, and this chief, whose name I gather is Vichin, or something like that, well, he's naturally much impressed. I've given him a demonstration or two of my atomic pistol in the flashlight. These people are fairly stricken by a ray of light directly in the eyes, and we've reached very favourable terms.

I am to remain here, his chief bodyguard and advisor, of which he has need for all that is not peaceful, I gather, in this kingdom of darkness. In return, he is to give up his plans to subjugate the rest of Entry. He swore to do this by what is evidently, well, to him, a very sacred oath, witnessed solemnly by the rest of his counsel. Under the circumstances, I believe he will do what he says. In any case, the Great Canal will be filled in, and the Antrians will have plenty of time to erect a great series of disintegrator ray stations along the entire Twilight Zone, using the broad fan rays to form a solid wall against which he will have plenty of the Antrients. the JC could not advance, even if they did, at some future date, decided to carry out their plans. The worst possible result, then, would be that the people in the sunlit portion would have to

migrate from certain sections, and perhaps would have day and night, alternately, as do other worlds. Now, this is the agreement we've reached. It's the only one that will save this world. Do you approve so? No. Return immediately, and we'll show that you see that they cannot hold an officer of the special patrol as a hostage. Don't make haste. It's no go, sir. Came the reply instantly. When I threatened them first, I explained what our disintegrator raids would do. Vachin laughed at me. The city's built upon great subterranean passages that lead to many hidden exits. If we show the least sign of hostility, the work will be resumed on the canal and, before we can locate the spot and stop the work, the damage will be done. This is our only chance, sir, to make this expedition a complete success.

Permit me to judge this fact from the evidence I have before me. Whatever sacrifice there is to make, I make gladly. Vashin asks that you depart at once and in peace. I know this is the only course. Goodbye, sir. Convey my salutations to my other friends upon the old air attack and elsewhere. And now, lest my last act as an officer of the Special Patrol Service be to reviews to obey the commands of my superior officer, I'm removing my menor.

Goodbye. I tried to reach him again, but there was no response. Gone. He was gone. Swallowed up in the darkness and in silence. dazed, shaken to the very foundation of my being, I stood there between the shadowy bulk of the airtack and the towering mass of the great silent pile that was the seat of government in this strange land of darkness, and gazed up at the sky above me. I am not ashamed now to say that hot tears

trickle down my cheeks, nor that as I turned back to the airtack my throat was so gripped by emotion I couldn't speak. I ordered the exit closed with a wave of my hand. In the navigating room I said but four words. We depart at once. At the third meal of the day I gathered my officers about me and told them as quickly and as gently as I could that the sacrifice one of their number had made. It was Kincaid who, when I'd finished, rose slowly and made reply. sir he said quietly we had a friend some day he might have died now he will live forever in the records of the service in the memory of a world and the hearts of those who had the honor to serve with him could he or we wish for more amid a strange silence he sat down again there was not an eye among us that was dry i hope that the snappy young officer who visited me the other day

reads this little account of bygone times perhaps it will make clear to him how we worked in those nearly forgotten days with the tools we had at hand they were not the perfect tools of today but what they lacked we somehow made up that fine old model of the service nothing less than complete success we passed on unsullied to those who came after us I hope these youngsters of today may do as well. The 60 stories of the perfectly constructed colossus building had mysteriously crashed. What was the connection between this catastrophe and the weird strains of the mad musicians violin? Mad music by Anthony Peltcher. To the accompaniment of a crashing roar. Not unlike rumbling thunder.

The proud colossus building, which a few minutes before had reared its 60 stories of artistic architecture, towards the blue dome of the sky, crashed down in a rugged, dusty heap of stone, brick, cement, and mortar. The steel framework, like the skeleton of some prehistoric monster, still reared to dizzy heights, but in a bent and twisted shape of grotesque outline. No one knew how many lives were snuffed out in the avalanche. As the collapse occurred in the early dawn, it was not believed the death list would be large. It was admitted, however, that autos, cabs, in surface cars may have been caught under the falling rock. One train was known to have been wrecked in the subway due to a cave-in from the surface under the ragged mountain of debris. The debris

fairly filled a part of Times Square, the most congested crossroads on God's footstool. Strackling brick and rock had rolled across the street to the west and had crashed into windows and doors of innocent small tradesmen's shop. A few minutes after the crash, a mad crowd of people but piled from subway exits as far away as Penn Station and Columbus Circle and from cross streets. These milled about, gesticulating and shouting hysterically. All neighboring police stations were hard put to handle the growing mob. Hundreds of dead and maimed were being carried to the surface from the wrecked train and the subway. Trucks and cabs joined the ambulance crews in the work of transporting these to morgues and hospitals.

As the morning grew older and the news of the disaster spread, spread. More milling thousands tried to crowd into the square. Many were craning necks hopelessly on the outskirts of the throng, blocks away, trying vainly to get a view of what lay beyond. The fire department, and finally several companies of militia, joined the police in handling the crowd. Newsies never asleep. Y' out there, yeah extras, and made much money. The newspapers devoted solid pages in attempting to describe what had happened. nervously efficient reporters had written and written using all their best adjectives and inventing new ones in attempts to picture the crash and the hysterics which followed when the excitement was at its height a middle-aged man bleeding at their head clothes torn and dusty staggered into the west 47th street police station he found a lone sergeant at the desk the police sergeant jumped to his feet as the bedraggled man entered and stumbled to a bench

I'm Pat Brennan, street floor watchman of the Colossus, he said. I ran for it. I got caught in the edge of the wreck, and a brick clipped me. I must have been out for some time. When I came around, I looked back just once at the wreck, and I beat it over here, for my boss. I'll let you phone your boss, said the sergeant. But first, tell me just what happened. earthquake i guess i saw the floor heaving and waves glass was crashing and falling into the streets all windows in the arcade buckled either in or out i ran into the street and looked up god what a sight

the building from sidewalk to towers was rocking and waving and twisting and buckling i saw it was bound to crumble so i lit out and ran heard a roar like all hell broke loose and something nick me and well my latch went out How many got caught in a building? Nobody got out but me, I guess. There weren't many tenants. Buildings all rented, but not everybody had moved in yet, and those his hat didn't spend their nights there. There was a watchman for every five stories, an engineer and his crew.

Free elevator operators had come in. No names of tenants in or out on my book at 4 a.m., crash must have come about six, that's all. Throughout the country, the news of the crash. was received with great interest and wonderment but in one small circle it caused absolute consternation that was in the offices of the Muller Construction Company the builders of the Colossus Jason V. Lanayne chief engineer of the company was in conference with his president James J. Muller sat with his head in his hands and his face wore an expression of a man in absolute anguish

Linane was pacing the floor, a wild expression in his eyes, and at times he muttered and mumbled under his breath. In the other offices the entire force from manager to office boys was hushed and awed, for they'd seen the expressions on the faces of the heads of the concern when they stalked into the inner office that morning. Muller finally looked up, rather hopelessly at Linnae. As we can prove that the crash was due to some circumstance over which we had no control, we are ruined, he said, and there were actually tears in his eyes.

No doubt about that, agreed Lennine. But I can swear that the colossus went up according to specifications and that every ounce and splinter of material was of the best. The workmanship was faultless. We had built scores of the biggest blocks in the world, and of them all this colossus was the most perfect. I pride in myself in it. Muller, it was perfection.

I simply cannot account for it. I cannot. It should have stood up for thousands of years. And the foundation was solid rock. This was positively not an earthquake. No other building in this section was even jarred. No other earthquake was ever localized to one half block of the earth's crust, so we can positively eliminate an earthquake or an explosion as the possible cause.

I'm sure we are not to blame, but we will have to find the exact cause. And, uh, if there was some flaw, questioned Muller, although he knew the answer. Well, if there was some floor, then yeah, we're a son. The newspapers are already clamoring for probes of us, of the building, of the owners, and everybody and everything. We have to get something damn plausible when we go to bat on this proposition, or every dollar we have in the world will have to be paid out. Ah, that's not all, said Mueller.

But only will we be penniless, but we may have to go to jail and we'll never be able to show our faces in reputable business circles again. Who's the last to go over that building? I sent Teddy Jenks. He's a car but he's swell-headed and too big for his pants, but I banked my life on his judgment. He has the judgment of a much older man, and also banked my life and reputation on his engineering skill and knowledge. He pronounced the building positively okay, 100%. Where is Jenks? He'll be here as soon as his car can drive down from Tarrytown.

Should be here any time now. As they talked, Jenks, the youngest member of the engineering force, entered. He entered like a whirlwind. He threw his hat on the floor and drew out a drawer from a cabinet. He pulled out the plans for the Colossus, big blueprints, some of them yards in extent, and threw them on the floor. They dropped to his knees and began pouring over them. "'This is a hell of a time for you to begin getting around,' exploded Muller.

"'What were you doing, dancing the night away?' "'It sure is terrible. "'Awful,' Jenks said, half to himself. "'Ansom me,' thundered Muller. "'Oh, yes,' said Jenks, looking up. "'He saw the look of anguish on his boss's face "'and forgot his own excitement in sympathy. "'He jumped to his feet, placed his arm about the shoulders of the older man,

and led him to a chair. Linane only scowled at this young man. I was delayed because I stopped to see the wreck. My God, Mr. Muller, it's awful. Jenks drew his hand across his eye as if to erase the scene of the wreck building. Then patting the older man affectionately on the back, he said, Buck up, I'm on the job as usual. I'll find out all about it. Couldn't have been our fault. Man, that building was as strong as Gibraltar itself. You were the last to inspect it, accused Muller, with a break in his voice. But nobody knows better than I. I can swear by all that's square and honest that it was no fault of the material or the construction.

It must have been... Must have been what? I'll be damned if I know. Yeah, that's like him, said Linane, who, while really kindly intentioned, had always rather enjoyed prodding the young engineer. Like me, like the devil. shouted Jenks, glaring at Lanane. I suppose you know all about it.

You're so blamed wise. No, I don't know, admitted Linane. But I do know that you don't like me to tell you anything. Nevertheless, I'm going to tell you that you'd better get busy and find out what caused it. Or, that's just what I'm doing, said Jenks, and he dived for his plans on the floor. Newspaper reporters, many of them, were fighting to get in.

Mulla looked at Linane when a stenographer had announced the reporters for the tenth time. We'd better let him in, he said. Looks bad to craw for cover. What are you going to tell them? Asked Linnane. God only knows, said Muller.

Well, let me handle them, said Jenks, looking up confidently. The newspaper man had rushed the office. They came in like a wild wave. Questions flew like feathers at a fuck fight. Mulla held up his hand and there was something in his grief-stricken eyes that held the gentleman of the press in silence. They had time to look around and they saw the handsome, dark-haired, brown-eyed jenks pouring over his plans. Dust from the carpet smudged his

knees and he'd rubbed some of it over a sweating forehead, but he still looked the picture of self-confident deficiency. "'German,' said Muller slowly, "'I can answer all your questions at once. Our firm is one of the oldest and staunches in the trade. Our buildings stand as monuments to our integrity. Oh, but one, said a young Irishman. You're right. All but one. Confess Mueller.

Without one, believe me, has been visited by an act of God. Some form of earthquake or some unlooked-for uncontrolled, almost unbelievable catastrophe has happened. The Muller Company backs its work to its last dollar. Now, gentlemen, you know as much as we do. Mr. Jenks there, whose reputation as an engineer is quite sturdy, I assure you, was the last to inspect the building. He passed upon it when it was finished.

Now he's at your service. Jenks arose, brushed some of the dust from his knees. You look like you've been praying, bandied the Irishman. Or maybe I have. Now, let me talk. Don't broadside me with questions. I know what you want to know, so let me talk. The newspaper man was silent.

Now, there's been talk of probing this disaster, naturally, began Jenks. You all know, gentlemen, that we'll aid any inquiry to our utmost. You want to know what we have to say about it. Who's responsible? On a reasonable time, I will have a statement to make that we'll be startling in the extreme. I'm not sure of my grand now, though. How about the ground under the colossus? said the Irishman.

Don't let's kid each other, pleaded Jenks. Look at Mr. Muller. It's as if he had lost his whole family. We're good people. We're doing all I can. Mr. Lanayne, who had charged with the construction, is doing all he can. We believe we are blameless.

If it's proven otherwise, we'll acknowledge our fault, assume financial responsibility. and take our medicine. Believe me, that building was perfection plus, like all our buildings, and that covers the entire situation. Hundreds of questions were parried and answered by the three engineers, and the reporters left convinced that if the Mueller construction company was responsible, it was not through any fault of its own.

And the fact that Jackson and Lanayne were not strong for each other, except to recognize each other's abilities as engineers, was due to an incident in the past. This incident had caused a ripple of mirth in engineering circles when it happened, and the laugh was on the older man, Linane. It was back when radio was new. Linane, a structural engineer, had paid little attention to the radio. Jenks was the kind of an engineer who dabbled in all sciences, so he knew his radio.

When Jenks first came to work with a technical sheepskin and a few tons of brass, Linane accorded him only passing notice. Well, Jenks craved the plaudits of the older man and his friendship. Benain treated him as a son, but he didn't warm to his social advances. I'm as good an engineer as he is, mused Jenks. And if he's going to high have me, I'll just put a swift one over on him and compel his notice. The next day, Jenks approached Linane in a conference and said, I've got a curious bet on Mr. Linane.

I'm betting sound can travel a mile quicker than. it travels a quarter of a mile. What? said Linane. I'm betting fifty that sound can travel a mile quicker than it can travel a quarter of a mile. No, it can't, insisted Linane. Oh, yes, it can, decided Jenks. I'll take some of that full money myself, said Lenin. How much? asked Jenks.

As much as you want. All right. Five hundred dollars. How are you going to prove your contention? By stopwatches. And your man can hold the watches. We'll bet that a pistol shock can be heard two miles away quicker than it can be heard, a quarter of a mile away. Sound travels about a fifth of a mile a second.

The rate varies slightly according to temperature, explained Linane. At the freezing point, the rate is 1,090 feet per second. It increases a little over one foot for every degree Fahrenheit. Well, hot or cold. Breeze, Jenks, unbated you five hundred dollars that sound can travel two miles quicker than a quarter mile. You're on, you damned idiot, shouted the completely exasperated Linane. Jenks let Linane's friends hold the watches, and his friend held the money. Jenks was to fire the shot. He fired the shot in front of a microphone on a football field.

One of Linane's friends picked up the sound instantaneously on a three-tube radio set two miles away. The other watchholder was standing in the open a quarter of a mile away, but his watch showed a second in a fraction. All hands agreed that Jenks had won the bet fairly. Linane never exactly liked Jenks after that. Then Jenks were rather aggravated matters via habit. Whenever Linane would make a very positive statement, Jenks would look owl-eyed and say,

Oh, Mr. Linane, I'll have to sound you out about that. And the heavy accent on the word sound nettled Linane somewhat. Linane never completely forgave Jenks for pulling this fast one. Socially, they were always more or less at loggerheads, but neither never let this feeling interfere with their work. They worked together faithfully long enough, and each recognized the ability of the other. And so it was that Linane and Jenks, their heads together,

worked all night in an attempt to find some cause that would tie responsibility for the disaster on Mother Nature. But they failed to find it, and sleepy-eyed they were forced to admit failure, or so far. The newspapers to whom Mueller had said that he would not shirk any responsibility began a humane cry for the arrest of all parties in any way concerned with the direction of the building of the Colossus. When the death list from the crash and subway wreck reached 97, the press got nasty and demanded the arrest of Muller, Linane and Jenks in no one certain tones.

Half-deared from lack of sleep, the three men were taken by the police to the district attorney's offices, and, after a strenuous grilling, were formerly placed under arrest on charges of criminal negligence. They put up a $50,000 bond in each case and were permitted to go and seek further to find the cause of what the newspapers now began calling the colossal failure. Several days were spent by Linnae and,

and Jenks in examining the wreckage which was being removed from Times Square, truckload after truckload, to a point outside the city. Here it was again sorted and examined and piled for future disposal. So far as could be found, every brick, stone and ounce of material that was used in the building had been perfect. Attorneys, however, assured Linnae and Jenks and Muller that they would have to find the real cause of the disaster if they were to escape possible long prison sentences. Night after night, Jenks caught his sleep, but it would not come. He began to grow wan and hugged. Jenks took to walk in the streets at night, mile after mile, thinking, always thinking,

and searching his mind for a solution of the mystery. It was evening. He walked past the scene of the Colossus crash several times. He found himself on a side street. He looked up and saw in electric lights. Town Hall, Munsterbergen, the mad musician, concert here tonight. He took five dollars from his pocket and bought a ticket. He entered with the crowd and was ushered to a seat.

He looked neither to the right or to the left. His eyes were sunken, his face lined with worry. Something within Jenks caused him to turn slightly. He was curiously aware of a beautiful girl who sat beside him. She had a mass of golden hair which seemed. to defy control. It was wild, positively tempestuous. Her eyes were deep blue and her skin as white as fleecy clouds in spring. He was also dimly conscious that those glorious eyes were troubled. She glanced at him. She was aware that he was suffering, and a great surge of sympathy whirled

in her heart. She couldn't explain the feeling. A great red plush curtain parted in the center and drew in graceful folds to the edges of the Presenium. A small stage was revealed. A tussle-headed man with a glaring, beady black eyes, dressed in black evening clothes, stepped forward and bowed. Under his arm was a violin. He brought the violin forward. His nose, like the beak of some great bird,

bobbed up and down in acknowledgement of the plaudits which greeted him. His long nervous fingers began to caress the instrument, and his lips began to move. Chinks was aware that he was saying something, but was not at all interested. What he said was this. Maybe, yes, I couldn't talk so good English, but you could understand it, yes?

And now I tell you that I never play the compositions of any man. I extemporise exclusively. I just play and play, and maybe you should listen, yes. If I believe you, then I am... Just happy. Jinks's attention was now drawn to him. He noted his wild appearance. Hmm.

Sure looks mad enough, mused Janks. The violinist flipped the fiddle up under his chin. He drew the bow over the strings and began a gentle melody that reminded one of raindrops falling on calm waters. Jenks forgot his troubles. He forgot everything. He slumped in his seat and his eyes closed. The rain continued falling from the strings of the violin.

Suddenly the melody changed to a glad little, lilting measure, as sweet as love itself. The sun was coming out again, and the birds began to sing. There was the trill of a canary with the sun on its cage. There was the song of the thrush, the mocking bird, and the meadow-lark. He's blended finally into a melodious burst of chirping melody, which seemed to be a chorus of the wild birds of the forest in Glen. Then the lilting love measure again. It tore at the heartstrings and brought tears to one's eyes.

Unconsciously the girl next to Jenks leaned towards him. Involuntarily he leaned to meet her. Their shoulders touched. The cloud of her golden hair came to rest against his dark locks. Their hands found each other with gentle pressure. Both were lost to the world. But abruptly, the music changed. There was a succession of broken treble notes that sounded like the crackling of flames,

moans deep and melancholy followed. These grew more strident and prolonged, giving place to abject howls, suggesting the lamentations of the damned. The hands at the boy and girl gripped tensely. They couldn't help shuddering. The violin began to produce notes of a leering, jeering character, growing more horrible with each measure, until they burst into a loud guffa of maniacal laughter.

The whole performance was as if someone had taken a heaven and plunged it into a hell. The musician bowed jerkily and then was gone. There was no applause, only wild exclamations. Half the house was on its feet. The other half sat as if glued to their chairs. The boy and the girl were standing, their hands still gripping tensely.

Come, let's get it. get out of here said jenks the girl took her wrap and jenks helped her into it then hand in hand they fled the place in the lobby their eyes met and for the first time they realized they were strangers and yet deep in their hearts was a feeling that their fates had been sealed my goodness burst from the girl well it can't be helped now said jenks decisively what can't be helped asked the girl although she knew in her heart nothing can be helped said jenks and then he added we should know each other by this time we've been holding hands for an hour the girl's eyes fled you have no right to presume on that situation she said jenks could have kicked himself oh forgive me he said it was only that i just wanted to well to know you

won't you let me see you home you may said the girl's simply, and she led the way to her own car. They drove north. Her bodies seemed like magnets. They were again shoulder to shoulder, holding hands. Will you tell me your name, please? Pleaded Jenks. Sure, replied the girl. I'm Elaine, Elaine, Linane. What? Exploded Jenks. Why, I work with a Lenin, an engineer with the Muller Construction Company. well he's my father she said well we're great friends said the boy i'm jenks his assistant well at least we work together oh yeah i've heard of you said the girl it's strange the way we met my father admires your work but

i'm afraid you're not great friends well the girl had forgotten her troubles now and she chuckled She'd heard the way that Jenks had sounded her father out. Janks was speechless. The girl continued. Well, I don't know whether to like you or to hate you. My father is dear, and you were cruel to him. Janks was object now. I didn't mean to be, he said.

He rather belittled me without realizing it. I had to make my stand. I guess the difference in our years made him take me rather too lightly. I had to compel his notice. if I was to advance. Oh, said the girl. I'm sorry. So sorry.

You might not have been all together at fault, said the girl. Father forgets at times that I've grown up. I resent being treated like a child, but he is the soul of goodness and fatherly care. Yeah, I know that, said Jenks. Every engineer knows his mathematics. It was this fact, coupled with what the world calls a lucky break. that solved the colossus mystery. Nobody can get around the fact that two and two make fall.

Jenks had happened on an accomplishment to advance in the engineering profession, and it was well for him that he'd reached a crisis. He'd never believed in luck or in hunches, so it was good for him to be brought face to face with the fact that sometimes the footsteps of man are guided. He made him begin to look into the engineering of the universe, to think more deeply, and to acknowledge a higher power. With Linane, he butted into a stone wall.

They were coming to know what real trouble meant. The fact that they were innocent did not make the steel bars of a cage any more attractive. Their troubles began to wrap around them with the clammy intimacy of a shroud, and then came the lucky break. Next to his troubles, Jenks' favorite topic was the mad musician. Well, he tried to learn all he could about this uncanny character, at whose concert he'd met the girl of his life. He learned two facts that made him perk up and think.

One was that the mad musician had offices and a studio in the Colossus, and was one of the first to move in. The other was that the mad musician took great delight in shattering glassware with notes or vibrations from his violin. Nearly everyone knows that a glass tumbler can be shattered by the proper notes sounded on a violin. The mad musician took delight in. light in this trip. Janks caught at his acquaintance and saw him shatter a row of glasses of

different sizes by sounding different notes on his fiddle. The glasses crashed one after another, like gelatin balls hit by the bullets of an expert rifleman. And then Janks, the engineer who knew his mathematics, put two and two together, and it made four, of course. Listen, Lanane, he said to his co-worker, this fiddler is crazier than a flock of course. He said, If he can crack Crocker with violin sound vibrations, is it not possible by carrying the vibrations to a much higher power that he could crack a pile of stone, steel, brick and cement, like the colossus? Possible, but hardly probable.

Still, Linane mused, when you think about it, and put two and two together. Let's go after him and see what he's doing now. Both jumped for their coats and hats. As they fared forth, Jenks clinched his arguments. If a madman takes delight in breaking glassware with a vibratory wave or vibration, how much more of a thrill would he get by crushing a mountain? Wild, but unanswerable, replied Linane. Jenks had been calling on the mad musician at his country place.

He had a studio in the Colossus, he reminded Lelain. Linane. He must have reopened somewhere else in town. Hmm. Wonder where? Musicians are great union men, replied Linane. Must phone the union. Teddy Jenks did, but the union gave the last known

town address as the Colossus. He'd remain in the same district around Times Square, reasoned Jenks. Let's page out the big buildings and see if he's not preparing to crash another one. Fair enough, said Linane, who was too busy with the problem at hand to choose his words. Together the engineers started a canvas of the big buildings in the theatrical district. After four or five have been searched without results, they entered the 30-story

Acme theatre building. Here they learned that the mad musician had at least a four-room suite just a few days before, and this suite was on the 15th floor, just halfway up in the big structure. They went to the manager of the building and frankly stated their suspicion. We want to enter that suite when the tenant's not there, they explained. We want him forestalled from entering while we're examining the premises. Hadn't we better notify the police? Asked the building manager, who had broken out in a sweat when he heard the dire disaster which may be in store for the stately Acme building.

Not yet, said Linane. You see, we're not sure. We've just been put in two and two together. Well, we'll get the building detective anyway. insisted the manager. Let him come along, but don't let him know until we're sure. If we're right, we'll find a most unusual infernal machine, said Linane. The three men entered the suite with a pass key.

The detective was left outside in the hall to hold anyone who might disturb the search of us. Well, it was, as Jenks had thought. In an inner room, they found a diabolical machine, a single string stretch. across two bridges, one of brass and one of wood. A big horsehair bow attached to a shaft operated by a motor was automatically soaring across the string. The resulting note was evidently higher than the range of the human ear because no audible sound resulted.

It was later estimated that the destructive note was several octaves higher than the highest note on a piano. The entire machine was enclosed in a heavy wireneck case. securely bolted to the floor neither the string or the bow could be reached it was evidently the mad musician's idea that the devilish contrivance should not be reached by hands other than his own how long the infernal machine had been operating no one knew but the visitors were startled when the building suddenly began to sway perceptively Jenks jumped forward to stop the machine but couldn't find a switch

"'See if the machine plugs in anywhere in a wall socket,' he shouted to Linane, who promptly began examining the walls. Jank shouted to the building manager to phone the police to clear the streets around the big building. To all the police that the Acme Theatre building may crash at any moment, he instructed. Premier engineers were perfectly cool in face of their great peril, but the building manager lost his head completely and began to run around in circles muttering, oh my god oh god save me and other words of supplication that blended into an incoherent babble jenks rushed to the man trying to still his wild hysteria and meanwhile the building

continued to sway dangerously jenks looked from a window an enormous crowd was collecting watching the big building swinging a foot out of plum like a giant pendulum the crowd was growing Oh, should the building fall, the loss of life would be appalling. It was mid-morning now, and the interior of the building teamed with thousands of workers, for all floors above the third were offices. Teddy Jenks turned suddenly. He heard the watchman in the hall scream in terror, and then he heard a body fall. He rushed to the door to see the mad musician standing over the prostrate form of the detective,

a devilish grin on his distorted countenance. The madman turned, saw Jenks and started to run. Jenks took after him, up the staircase the madman rushed toward the roof. Teddy followed him two floors and then rushed out to take the elevators. The building and its mad swaying had made it impossible for the lifts to be operated, though. Teddy realized this with a distraught gulp in his throat. He returned to the stairway and took up the pursuit of the madman. The corridors were beginning to be able to get him.

to fill with screaming men and wailing girls. It was a sight never to be forgotten. Roboriously Jenks climbed story after story without getting sight of this madman. Finally, he reached the roof. He was waving like swell in a lake before a breeze. He caught sight of the mad musician standing on the street wall, 30 stories from the streets, a leer on his devilish visage. He made a jump for him. The madman grasped him, and lifted him up to the top of the wall, as a cat might have lifted a mouse. Both men were breathing heavily as a result of their fifteen-story climb. The madman tried to throw Teddy Jenks to the street below,

but Teddy clung on to him, and the two battled desperately as the building swayed more. The dense crowd in the street had caught sight of the two men fighting on the narrow coping, and the shout which ran the air reached the ears of Jenks. The mind of the engineer was still working clearly, but a wild fear gripped his heart. His strength seemed to be leaving him, and the madman pushed him back, bending his spine with brute strength. Teddy was forced to the narrow ledge that had given the two men footing. The fingers of the madman now gripped his throat. He was dimly conscious that the swing of the building was slowing down.

Reason told him that Linane had found the wall socket and had stopped the the soaring of the devil's bow on the engine of hell. He saw the madman draw a big knife now. With his last remaining strength, he reached out and grabbed the wrist above the hand which held the weapon. In spite of all he could do, he saw the madman inching the knife nearer and nearer to his throat. Grim death was peering into the bulging eyes of Teddy Jenks,

when his engineering knowledge came to his rescue. He remembered the top stories of the Ackma building, were constructed with a step of ten feet in from the street line for every story of construction above the 24th floor if we fall he reasoned we can only fall one story then he deliberately rolled his own body in the weight of the madman who held him over the edge of the coping at the same time he twisted the madman's wrist so the point of the knife pointed to the madman's body there was a dim consciousness of a painful impact teddy had fallen underneath but the force of the two bodies coming together had thrust the knife deep into the entrails of the mad musician clouds which had been collecting in the sky began a splattering downpour now and the storm grew in fury and lightning tore the heavens while thunder boomed and crackled and the rain began falling in sheets this served to revive the unconscious teddy he painful withdrew his body from under that of the madman. The falling rain stained with the blood of the

mad musician trickled over the edge of the building. Teddy dragged himself through a window and passed his hand over his forehead, which was aching miserably. He tried to get to his feet, but fell back, only to try again. Several times he tried and then, his strength returning, he was finally able to walk. He made his way to the studio, where he'd left Linne and, he had left and found him there surrounded by police, reporters and others. The infernal machine had been rendered harmless, but was kept intact as evidence. Catching sight of Teddy, Linane shouted with joy.

Stop the damn thing, he chuckled, like a pleased schoolboy. Then, observing Teddy's exhausted condition, he added, Why? You look like you've been to a funeral. I have, said Teddy. You'll find that crazy film. were dead on the 29th story. Look out the window of the 30th story. He instructed the police, who started to recover the body. He stabbed himself, so he's either dead or dying. It proved to be that he was dead. No engineering firm is responsible for the actions of a madman,

and so the Muller Construction Company was given a clean bill of health. Jenks and Elaine were with the girl's father in his study now. They were unarmed. They were asking for the paternal blessing. Linane was pretending to be hard to convince. Now, my daughter, he said, this young man who takes $500 of my good money by sounding me out, as he calls it, and then he comes along and tries to take my daughter away from me.

It is positively high-handed. Takes back to the football game. Daddy, dear, don't be like that, said Elaine, who's on the arm of his chair with her own arms around him. I tell you, Elaine, this dates back to the fall of 1927. Dates back to the fall of Eve, said Elaine. When a girl finds her man, no power can keep him from her. If you won't give me to Teddy Jenks, I'll have to elope with him.

Well, all right, then. Kiss me, said Lenin, as he turned towards his radio set. One in one makes one, said Teddy Jenks. It's true. Every engineer knows his. his mathematics sealed and vigilantly guarded was drayle's invention 1932 for it was a scientific achievement beyond which man dared not go an extra man by Jackson geese raised for the August midday sun pouring through the museum's glass roof

beat upon the eight soldiers surrounding the central exhibit which for 30 years have been under constant guard even the present sweltering heat failed to lessen the men's careful observation of the visitors who, from time to time, strode listlessly about the room. The object of all this solicitude scarcely seemed to require it. A great upended rectangle of polished steel, some six feet square by ten or a dozen feet in height, standing in the centre of the machinery hole. It suggested nothing sinister or priceless. Two peculiarities, however, marked it as unusual, the concealment of its mechanism and the brevity of its title. While the remainder of the exhibits located around it varied in the simplicity or complexity of their design,

they were alike in the openness of their construction and detailed explanation of plan and purpose. A great steel box, however, for merely two words and a date. Drell's invention, 1932. It was nevertheless toward this exhibit a pleasant-appearing white-haired old gentleman and a small boy were slowly walking when a change of guard occurred. The new man took their posts without words, while the relieved detail turned down a long corridor that, for a moment, echoed with the clatter of hobnail boots on stone. Men all were surprisingly still. Even the boy was impressed into reluctant silence as he viewed the uniformed men, but not for long.

"'What's that? What's that? What's that?' he demanded presently with shrilled imperiousness. "'Grandfather, what's that?' An excited arm indicated the exhibit with its soldier guard. If you keep still lying off, replied the old man patiently, I'll tell you. And with due regard for rheumatic limbs, he slowly settled himself on a bench

and folded his hands over the top of an ebony cane in preparation for answering the youngster's question. His inquisitor, however, was at the moment being hauled from beneath a brass railing by the sergeant of the watch. "'You'll have to keep an eye on him, sir,' said the man reproachfully. "'You was going to try his knife on the woodwork when I caught him.' "'Well, thank you, Sergeant. I'll do my best, but this younger generation, you know. Sit still if possible.'

He directed the squirming boy. If not, we'll start home now. The non-com took a new post within easy-reaching distance of the disturber, and attempted to glare impressively. Go on, Grandfather. Tell me. What's derail? What's in the box? Can they open it? What are those soldiers for? Do they have to stay here? Why? Grale, said the old man, breaking through the barrage of questions. He was a close friend of mine a good many years ago.

How many, grandfather? Fifty? As much as 50? Did Father know him? Is father 50? 40, no, yes, no, said the harassed relative. And then with amazing ignorance inquires, do you really care to hear, or do you just ask questions to exercise your tongue? Well, I want to hear the story, Grandpa. Tell me the story, this is a nice story. Has it got bears in it? Polar bears. I saw a polar bear yesterday. He was white.

Are old polar bears white? Tell me the story, Grandpa. The old man turned appealing eyes toward the sergeant. Tacitly a sympathetic understanding was established. The warrior was also a father, and off of the field of battle he had known defeat. Oh, leave me handle him, sir, he suggested. I have the like of him at home. I'd be very much indebted to you, if you would.

Thus encouraged the soldier produced from an inner pocket, and offered one of those chartered sweets, as an all-day sucker. Well, see if you can joke yourself on that, he challenged, and the clamour ceased immediately. It always works, sir, explained the man of resource. The Mrs. says, as how it'll ruin their indigestions, but I'm all for peace, even if I am in the army. Now that his vocal organs were temporarily plugged, a child waved a demanding arm in the direction

of the main exhibit, indicate a desire for the resumption of the narrate. where the ancient was not anxious to disturb so soon the benign and acceptable silence. In fact, it was not until he observed the sergeant's look of inquiry that he began once more. "'Aad box,' he said slowly, "'it's both a monument and a milestone on the road to mankind's progress in mechanical invention. "'It marks a point beyond which Drale's contemporaries believed it was unsafe to go. "'For they felt that inventions such as his would add to the complexity of life, and if a hold were not made, well, our own machines would ultimately destroy us.

I did not, still do not believe it, and I know Drale's spirit broke when the authorities sealed his last work in that box, and released him upon parole to abandon his experiments. As the speaker sighed in regretful reminiscence, the sergeant glanced at his men. Apparently all was well, the only visible menace lulled with an easy arm's reach, swinging his short legs and sucking noisily on his candy. Nevertheless, the non-com shifted to a slightly better tactical position as he awaited the continuance of this tale. Ah, Christopher Drayle, said the elderly gentleman.

It was the greatest man I've ever known, as well as the finest. Forty years or more ago, we were close friends. Our homes on Long Island are joined, and I handled most of his legal affairs. He was about 45 or 46 then, but already famous. His rediscovery of the ancient process of temper and copper made him one of the wealthiest men in the land and enabled him to devote his time to scientific research. Electricity and chemistry were his specialties. At the period of which I speak, he was deeply encroached in problems of radio transmission. But he had many interests and not infrequently visited our local country club for an afternoon of golf.

Sometimes I played around the course with him, and afterward, over a drink, we'd talk. His favorite topic was the contribution of science to human welfare. And even though I could not always follow him when he grew enthusiastic about some new theory, I was always puzzled. It was at such a time when we'd been discussing the new and first successful attempt to send moving pictures by radio, but I mentioned the prophecy of Jackson Gee. He was the writer of fantastic, pseudoscientific tales who said, We shall soon be able to resolve human beings into their constituent elements,

transmit them by radio to any desired point, and reassemble them at the other end. And we shall do this by means of vibrations. We're just beginning to learn that vibrations are the key to the fundamental process of all life. Well, I laughed as I quoted this to drill. It seemed to me the ravings of a lunatic. The Drale did not smile. Jackson Gee, he said, is nearer to the truth than he imagines. We already know the elements that make the human body, and we can put them together in their proper proportions and arrangements.

We've not been able to introduce the vitalizing spark, the key vibrations to start it going. We can reproduce the human machine, but we cannot make it move. We can destroy life in the laboratory, and we can put it. prolonging, but so far we've not been able to create it. I tell you, in all seriousness, that that time will come. That time will come. I was surprised at his earnestness, and would have questioned him further. But a boy appeared just then with a message that Drel was wanted on the telephone.

Some of the important, sir, he said. Drell went off to answer the summons, and later he sent word that he'd been called away and would not be able to return. He was the last I heard from Drale for months. He shot himself in his laboratory and saw no one but his assistance. Ward of Boston and Buchanan of Washington. He even slept in the workshop and had his fruit sent him. Ordinarily, I would not have been excluded,

for I had his confidence to an unusual degree, and had often watched him work. I admired the deaf movements of his hands. He had a certain touch and a style of a master. But during that period, he admitted only his aids. Consequently, I felt little hope of reaching him one morning when it was necessary to have his signature to some legal documents. Yet the urgency of the case led me to go to his home on the chance that I might be able to get him long enough for the business that concerned us. Luck was with me, but he sent out word that he'd see me in a few minutes.

I remember seating myself in the office that opened off his laboratory and wondering what was beyond the door that separated us. I'd witnessed some incredible performances in the adjoining room. At last, Adraal came in. He looked worried and carewarm. There were new lines on his face, a little half-circles of fatigue beneath his eyes. And it was evident that it was long since he had slept. He apologized for having kept me waiting,

and then, without examining the papers I offered, he signed his name nervously in the proper spaces. When I gathered the sheathed together, he turned abruptly toward the laboratory, but at the door he paused and smiled. "'Oh, give my respects to Jackson G,' he said. "'Hey, um, who was Jackson Gee? "'Does father know him?

"'Is he got any polar bears? "'How are you going to tell me about that?' "'The tidal wave of questions almost overwhelmed the historian and his auditor. "'But the military, fortunately, was equal to the emergency. "'With a tactical turn of his hand, "'he thrust the remnant of the lollipot between the chattering jaws "'and spoke with sharp rapidity. Listen, he commanded, that there what you got is a magic candy.

If you go exposing it to the air after it's once in your mouth, it's likely to disappear just like that. And the speed of the translation was illustrated by a smart snapping of the fingers. Doubt shone in the juvenile terror's eyes, and the earlier generations waited fearfully while skepticism and greed waged their recurrent conflict. For a time it seemed as if the veteran had blundered, but finally greed triumph and a temporary peace ensued. Oh, where was I? Inquired the interrupted narrator when the issue of battle was settled. You was talking about Jackson Yee, answered the guardsman in a cautiously low tone.

Ah, so I was, so I was. The old gentleman agreed somewhat vaguely, nodding his head. He gazed at the sergeant with mingled awe and admiration. I suppose he's quite useless to mention it, he said rather wistfully. But if you ever get out of the army and should want a job, you could name your own salary, you know. The question ended on an appealing note. Evidently the soldier understood the digression, so he replied in a tone that would brook no dispute.

No, sir, I couldn't consider it. I was afraid so, said the other regretfully, and added with apparent irrelevance. I have to live with him, you see. Tough luck, commiserated the listener. Reluctantly summoning his thoughts from the pleasant contemplation of what had seemed to offer a new era of peace, the bard returned to his story.

A few hours later, he continued. I had a telephone call from Greal's wife, and I realized from the fright in her voice that something dreadful had happened. She asked me to come to the house at once. Griss had been hurt. But she disconnected before I could ask for details. I started immediately, and I wondered as I drove what disaster had overtaken him.

Anything, it seemed to me, might have befallen in that room of miracles, but I was not prepared to find that Drail had been shot and wounded. The police were before me, and already questioning the assailant, Mrs. Farrell, a fiery-tempered young Irish woman. When I entered the room, she was repeating how, hysterically, her explanation that Drail had killed her husband in the laboratory that morning. Right before my eyes, I seen it, she shouted. Harry was standing on a sort of platform, looking at a big machine like, so help me he didn't have a stitch of clothes on.

I started to say something, but all at once there came a terrible sort of screech and a flash like lightning. Well, it was right in front of him. Then Harry turns into a sort of thick smoke. I can see right through him like he was a ghost. Then the smoke gets sucked into a big hole in the, machine and I know Harry's dead. Here's this man what done it, just standing there grinning horrid. So something comes over me all at once and points Harry's gun at him and pulls the trigger.

Even before the woman had finished, I recalled what I'd seen one afternoon in Drell's laboratory many months before. I've been there for some time watching him when he placed a small tumbler on a work table. Asked me if I'd ever seen glass shattered by the vibrations. of a violin. I told him that I had, but he went through the demonstration as if to satisfy himself. Of course, when he drew a bow across the instrument strings and produced the proper pitch, the goblet cracked into pieces exactly as it might have been expected. And I wondered why Drell concerned himself with such childish experiment, before I noticed that he appeared to have forgotten me completely. I endeavoured then not to disturb him. I remember trying to draw myself

out of his way, feeling that something momentous was about to take place. It actually, I believe, it would have required a considerable commotion to have distracted his attention, for his ability to concentrate was one of the characteristics of his genes. I saw him place another glass on the table, and I noticed then that it stood directly in front of a complicated mechanism. Well, at first, this gave out a low humming sound, but it soon rose to an unearthly winding shriek. I shrank from it involuntarily, and a second later I was amazed at the side of the glass, seemingly reduced with thin vapor, being drawn into a funnel-like opening near the top of the device.

I was too stalled to speak, and could only watch as Drale started the contrivance again. Once more its noise cut through me with physical pain. I cried out, but my voice was overwhelmed by the terrific den of the mysterious machine. Then Drill strode down the long room to another intricate mass of wire coals and plates and lamps. I saw a dim glow appear in two of the bulbs and heard a noise like the crackling of paper. Drell made some adjustments, and presently I observed a peculiar shimmering of the air above a horizontal metal grid. Reminded me of heat waves rising from a summer street until I saw the vibrations were taking a definite pattern, and that the pattern was that of the glass I'd seen dissolved into air.

At first the image made me think of a picture formed by a series of horizontal lines close together, but broken at various points in such a fashion as to create the appearance of the line by the very continuity of the fractures. But as I watched, the plasma became substance. The air ceased to quiver, and I was appalled to see Drake pick up the tumbler

and carry it to a scale on which he weighed it with infinite. exactness. If he'd approached me with it at that moment, I would have fled in terror. Next, Drayle filled the goblet with some liquid, which immediately afterward he measured in a beacon. The results seemed to please him, for he smiled happily. At the same instant he became aware of my present. He looked surprised, and then a trifle disconcerted. I could see that he was embarrassed by the knowledge that I had witnessed so much, and after a second or two he asked, my silence. I agreed at once, not only because he requested it, but because I couldn't believe the evidence myself. He let me out then and locked the door. Well, it was this recollection that

made me credit the woman's story. But I was sick with dread, for in spite of my faith in Drell's genius, I feared he'd gone mad. Mrs. Drail had listened to Mrs. Fowell's account calmly enough, but I could see the fear in her eyes when she signified. know to wish to speak to me alone. I followed her into an adjoining room, leaving Mrs. Farrell with the two policemen and the doctor who was trying to quiet her. As soon as the door closed,

Mrs. Drell seized my hands. Tim, she whispered, I'm horribly afraid that what the woman says is true. Chris has told me some wonderful things she was planning to do, but I never expected he'd experiment on human beings. Can they send him to prison? Of course, I said what I could to comfort her and tried to make my voice sound convincing.

At the time the legal aspect of the matter did not worry me so much as the fear that the attack on Drale might prove fatal. For even if it should develop that he was not dangerously hurt, I imagine that the interruption of the experiment at a critical moment might easily have ruined whatever slim chance there had been of success. For us, the nerve-wracking part was that we could do nothing until the surgeon who was attending Drale could tell us how badly he was injured. At last word came that the bullet had only grazed Dreel's head and stunned him, but he might remain

unconscious for some time. Mrs. Dreel went in and sat at her husband's side, while I returned to the laboratory and found the police greatly bewildered as to whether or not they should arrest Drale. They discovered in a closet and outfit of men's clothing that Mrs. Farrell identified as her husband's, and, although they saw no other trace of the missing man, they had a desire to lock up somebody as an evidence of their activity.

I took considerable persuasion to prevail upon them to withhold their hands. There was no such difficulty about restraining them in the laboratory. They were afraid to touch any apparatus, and they gave the invention a ludicrously wide berth. Well, I never knew exactly how long it was. I paced about the lower floor of Drell's home before the doctor summoned me and announced that the patient wanted me. but that I must be careful not to excite him.

I've often wondered how many physicians would have abandoned their profession if they were deprived of that phrase. You must not excite the patient. Well, Drale was already excited when I entered. In fact, he was furious at the doctor's efforts to restrain him, but I realized that my fear for his reason was groundless. His remarks were lucid and forceful as he raged at the interference with his work. As soon as he saw me, he appealed for assistance.

Make them leave me alone, Tim, he begged. As his wife and the doctor, partly by force and partly by persuasion, endeavored to hold him in bed. I must get back to the laboratory. That woman believes that I have killed her husband, and my assistant will think that we fail. I was about to argue with him when suddenly he managed to thrust the doctor aside and start toward the door.

His seriousness impressed me, so that I gave him a support. We were a warning arm, and together we headed down the hall, with Mrs. Drell and the doctor following anxiously in the rear. The laboratory was deserted and locked when we arrived. The police evidently felt it was too uncanny in atmosphere for a prolonged wait. Drale opened the door, went directly to his machine, and examined it minutely. Thank the Lord that woman hit only me, he said, and sank into the chair. Then he asked for some brandy. Mrs. Dreel rushed off and reappeared in a minute with a decanter and glass.

Drale helped himself to a swallow that brought color to his cheeks and new strength to his limbs. Immediately after he turned again to the machine, I dragged up a chair, assisted him into it, and seated myself close by. I knew little enough about mechanics, but I was fascinated by the numerous gauges that faced me on the gleaming instrument board. There were dials with needle-like hands that registered various numbers. Spots of color appeared in narrow slots close to a solar spectrum. A stream of graph paper tape flowed slowly beneath a tracing pinpoint and carried away a jiggly thin line of purple ink. In a moment, trail was oblivious of everything but his records.

I watched him copy the indicated figures, surround them with formulas, and solve mysterious problems with a slide rule. His calculations covered a large sheet before he finished. Then at last he underscored three intricate combinations of letters and figures and carried the answers to his private radio apparatus. This operated on a wavelength far outside the range of all others and ensured him against interference. With it he was able to speak at any time with his assistance in Washington or Boston

or with both at once. He threw the switch that sent his call into the air. An answer came instantly. Andrell began to talk to his distant lieutenants. We've been interrupted, gentlemen, he said. But I think we may continue now. We'll reassemble in the Boston Laboratory. Have you arranged the elements?

The coefficients are. Then he gave a succession of decimals. A voice replied that all was ready. Andreel said, Excellent. Went back to his invention and twisted a black knob on the board before him. With this trifling movement, all hell seemed to crash about us. The ghastly cacophony that I'd experienced in the same room some months previously was as nothing now.

Oh, these stupendous waves of sound pounded us until it seemed as if we must disintegrate beneath them. Whales and screams engulfed us, Mrs. Drell dropped to her knees beside her husband. The doctor seized my arm, and I saw the knuckles of his hand turn white with the pressure of his grip. yet I felt nothing but the awful vibrations that drum like riveting machines upon and through my nerves and body. It was not an attack upon the ears alone, though. It crashed upon the heart, beat upon the chest so that breathing seemed impossible. My brain throbbed under the terrific pulsations. For a while I imagined the human system could not endure the ordeal, and all of us must be annihilated.

Well, except for his slow turning of the dials, Drell was motionless before the machine. Below the bandage about his forehead, I could see his features drawn with anxiety. He had waged a human life to test his theory, and I think the enormity of it had not struck him until that moment. What I knew and hoped enabled me to imagine what was taking place in the Boston Laboratory. It seemed to see man's elementary dust and vapors warred from great containers upward into a stratum of shimmering air and gradually assume the outlines of a human form that became first opaque. then solid, and then a sentient being.

At the same time I was conscious that the appalling pandemonian had ceased and that the voice of Drell's Boston assistant was on the radio. Congratulations, Chief. It's reassemblish, is perfect. It's not a floor anywhere. Ah, splendid, Drell answered. Bringing here by plane right away. His wife's worried about him.

And then Drell turned to me. Ah, you see. He said. Jackson Key was right. We've resolved man into his constituent elements, transmitted his key vibrations by radio, and reassembled him from a supply of identical elements at the other end. And now, if you all assure the woman and her husband is safe,

I'll get some sleep. You'll have the proof before you in less than three hours. Well, I can't vouch for the doctor's feelings. But as Dr. Lestr left us, I was satisfied that everything was as it should be, and that I had just witnessed the greatest scientific achievement of all time. Well, I did not foresee, nor did Dreyle, the results of an error or deliberate disobedience on the part of one of his assistance. We waited, and the doctor and I for the arrival of the man who, we were convinced, had been transported some 300 miles in a manner that defied belief.

Ah, the evidence would come, Drell said, in a few hours. Long before they elapsed we were starting at the sound of every passing motor, for we knew that a plane must land some distance from the house, and the travellers would make the last mile or so by car. Oh, Mrs. Dreil endeavoured to convince the imagined widow that her husband was safe and was returning speedily. Later she rejoined us, full of questions that we answered in a comforting, blind fate. The time limit was drawn to her close when the sound of an automobile horn was quickly followed

by a sharp knock on the laboratory door. But aside from Mrs. Drell, one of the policemen opened it. We saw two men before us. One, a scholarly appearing bespectacled youth, I recognized as Drell's Boston Assistant Ward. The other, a rather burly individual, who was a stranger to me. But there was no doubt he was the man we awaited so eagerly.

But Mrs. Farrell screamed. Harry! Oh, Harry! and sped across the room towards him. At first she ran her fingers rather timidly over his face and then pinched his huge shoulders, as if to assure herself of his reality. The sense of touch must have satisfied her, for abruptly she kissed him,

flung her arms about him, clung to him, and crooned a little endearments. The big man in turn patted her cheeks awkwardly, and mumbled in a convincingly natural voice. It's all right, Mary. Oh, care, there ain't nothing to it. Yep. Sure, it's me.

And then I was conscious of Drayle's presence. A brown silk dressing gown fell shapelessly about his spare frame and smoked from his cigarette rose in a quivering blue white stream. Ward spied him at the same moment and stepped forward with a quick, outstretched hands. I remember the flame of adoring zeal in the youngster's eyes as he tried to speak. At length he managed to stour some congratulatory phrases while Drayle clapped him affectionately on the back. Then Dreyl turned to Fowrell to ask him how he'd enjoyed the trip. Farrell grinned and said,

Fine, it's like a dream, sir. First I'm in one place and then I'm in another, and I don't know nothing about how I got there. What I could do with a drink, sir? I ain't used to them airplanes much. Drell accepted the hint and suggested that we all celebrate. He gave instructions over a desk telephone and almost immediately a man entered with a small service wagon containing a sort.

of liquors and glasses. When we'd all been served, what asked somewhat hesitantly if you might propose a toast? To Dr. Dr. Dr. Dale, the greatest scientist of all time. We were, of course, already somewhat drunk with excitement

as we lifted our glasses, but Drale would not have it. Let me amend that, he said. Let us drink to the future of science. Sure, said Farrow, very promptly. I think he was somewhat uncertain about toast, but he clung hopefully to the word drink. We raised our glasses again when Drale,

who was facing the door, dropped his. It struck the floor with a little crash and the liquor spattered my ankles. Then Drill whispered, Great God I saw in the doorway, another feral. He was grimy, dishevelled, his clothing was torn,

and his expression was ugly, but his identity with, Harry was unescapable. For an instant I suspected Drayle of trickery, of perpetuating some fiendishly elaborate hoax. And then I heard Mrs. Farrell's scream. I heard the newcomer cry,

Mary! I saw two men staring at each other in bewilderment. The explanation burst upon me with a horrible suddenness. Farrell had been reconstructed in each of Drayle's distant laboratories

and they stood before as two identities, each equally authentic, each the legal husband of the woman who, a few hours previously, had imagined herself a widow. The situation was fantastic, nightmarish, unbelievable and undeniable. My head reeled with the fearful possibilities. Dreil was the first to recover his points. He opened the door leading into an adjoining room and motion for us all to enter.

That is all but the police. He left them wisely with their lives. lick it. "'Oh, finish it,' he advised them. "'You see, no one has been killed.' "'They were not quite satisfied, but why were they certain what they ought to do, and for once displayed common sense by doing nothing. When the door closed after us, I saw Buchanan, the Washington Laboratory Assistant, was with us. He must have arrived with the second Farrell,

although I had not observed him during the confusion attending the former's unexpected appearance. But Dreyl had noted him, and now seized his shoulders. "'Explain!' he demanded. "'Oh, Buchanan's face went white and he shrunk under the clutch of Drell's fingers. Beyond them, I saw two twin-like men standing beside Mrs. Farrell, surveying each other with incredulous recognition and distaste. "'Explain!' roared Drell, and tightened his grip. "'I thought she said Washington, Chief.'

His voice was not convincing, and I didn't believe, him nor did Drayle. You lie, he raged and floored the man with his fist. In a way I couldn't help feeling sorry for the chap. It's been a frightful temptation to participate in the experiment and I suppose he'd not foreseen the consequences. But I began to have a glimmering of the magnificent possibilities of the invention for purposes far beyond Drayle's intent. For, I asked myself, if such a machine could produce two human identities, why not as a woman? scored a hundred a thousand the best of the race could be multiplied indefinitely man could make man at last literally out of the dust of the earth the virtue of

instantaneous transmission which had been drail's aim sank into insignificance beside it I fancied a race of supermen thus created and I still believe sergeant the chance for the world's greatest happiness is sealed within that box you guard but But his first fruits were tragic. The historian shifted his position on the bench so as to escape the sun that was now reflected dazzlingly by the polished steel caskings. Drell did not glance again at his disobedient lieutenants. He was concerned with the problem of the extra man, or, I should say, an extra man, for both were equal. No before in the history of the world had two men been absolutely identical,

They were, of course, one in thought, possessions and rights, physical attributes and appearance. Mrs. Farrell, as they were beginning to realize, was the wife of both. And I have an unworthy suspicion that the red-headed young woman, after she recovered from the shock, was not entirely displeased. The two men, however, found that each had an arm about her waist, were regarding each other in a way that foretold trouble. Both spoke at the same time, and in the same words. take your hands off my wife and i think they would have attacked each other then if drale hadn't intervened he said sit down all of you is so peremptory a voice that we obeyed him

now he went on pay attention to me i think you realize the situation the question is what should we do about it he pointed an accusing finger at the pharaoh from washington you were not authorized to exist properly we should retransmit you and without reassembling you would simply cease to be well the man addressed looked terrified that'll be murder he protested would it drale inquired of me i told him that he could not be proved in as much as there be no corpus delicti and hence there's nothing on which to base the charge but the washington farrell seemed to have more than an academic interest in the question and grew obstinate nothing doing He announced emphatically. Here I am and here I stay.

I started from this place this morning and now I'm back. As for that big ape over there, I don't know nothing about him, except he'll be dead damn soon if he don't keep away from my wife. The other, Drale-made man, laped up at this, and again I expected violence. Buck Buchanan flung himself between and they subsided, muttering. Very well then, Drell continued when the room was quiet. "'Here is another solution.

"'We can, as you realize, duplicate Mrs. Farrell. "'Well, double your present possessions. "'This time it was Mrs. Farrell who was dissatisfied. "'You ain't taking me,' she informed Rayo. "'Me stand naked in front of all them lamps and get turned into smoke. "'A-uh, not me.' "'A smile spread over her face and her eyes twinkled with deviltry. "'I didn't never think I'd be in one of those triangles like in the movies,

and with my own husbands, but, well, seeing as I am, I'm all for keeping them both, and I might know where one of them is some of the time. But neither of the men took to this idea, and the problem appeared increasingly complex. I proposed that the survivor be determined by a lot, but this suggestion won no support from anyone. Again, the two men spoke at the same instant, and in the same words. It looks like a carefully rehearsed chorus. I know my rights.

I ain't going to be jipped out of him. It was at this point that Drell attempted bribery. He offered $50,000 to the man who would abandon Mrs. Farrell. But this scheme fell through because both men sought the opportunity, and Mrs. Farrell objected volubly. So in the end, Drell promised each of them the same amount as a price for silence and left the matter of their relationships to their own settlement. Well, I was skeptical of the success of the plan.

It could offer nothing better. So I drew up a release as legally binding as I knew how to make it in a case without precedent. I remember thinking that if the matter ever came into court, the judge would be as much at a loss as I was. Our troubles, though, didn't spring from that source. Each of the three parties accepted the arrangement eagerly. Andrell dismissed them with a handshake, a wish for luck, and a check for $50,000 each. It's very nice to be wealthy, you know. afterward we went out and paid off the police

perhaps that's stating it too bluntly I mean Drill thanked them for their zealous attention to his interests regretted that they'd been unnecessarily inconvenienced and treated that they would not take amiss a small token of his appreciation of their devotion to duty and he shook hands with them both and I believe I saw a yellow bill transferred on each occasion

at any rate the officers saluted smartly and left Of course I was impatient to question Drale, but I could see that he was desperately fatigued, and so I departed. Next morning I found my worst fears exceeded by the events of the night. The three Farrells who had left us in apparently amiable spirits have proceeded to the home of Mrs. and the original Mr. Farrell. There the argument of who was to leave had been resumed. Both men were, of course, with the same mind, whether both desired to stay at the same. or flee, I would not presume to stay, but an acrimonious dispute led to physical hostilities,

and while Mrs. Farrell, according to accounts, cheered them on, they literally fought to the death. Being equally capable, there was naturally, barring interruption, no other possible outcome. I can well believe they employed the same tactics, swung the same blows, and probably died at the same instant. Mrs. Farrell, after carefully retrieving both of her husband's checks, told a great deal of the story, as might be expected, nobody believed the yarn except for our profound federal lawmakers. They welcomed an opportunity to investigate an outsider for a change and had all of us before a committee. Finally, the Congress of these United States of America, thus the sagacious Supreme Court, decided that my client wasn't guilty of anything, but that he

mustn't do it again, at least that was the gist of it. I recollect that I offered a defense of psychopathic neuroticism. As a result of the orbiter dictum, in a resolution by both houses assembled, Drell's invention was sealed, dated, and placed under guard. And that's its history, sergeant. The white-haired old gentleman picked up the high silk hat that added a final touch of distinction to his tall figure, and looked about him as if trying to recall something. At last the idea came. Oh, by the way, he inquired suddenly. Didn't I have an extraordinarily obnoxious grandson with me when I came?

The attentive auditor was vastly startled. He surveyed the Great Hall rapidly, but reflected before he answered. No, sir, I mean, he ain't no more than average. But I reckon we had better find him anyhow. His glance had satisfied the sergeant, that at least the object of his charge was safe and his men still vigilant i'll be back in a minute he informed them don't let nothing happen bring us something more than a breath pleaded the corporal disrespectfully the sergeant had already set off at a brisk pace with the storyteller for several minutes as they rush from room to room

the hunt was unrewarded well i think sir said the sergeant we'd better look in the natural history division there's stuffed animals in there the kids are frond off "'Ah, you're probably right,' the Patriot gasped as he struggled to maintain the gate set by the younger man. "'I might have known he didn't really want to hear the story.' "'Well, they never do,' answered the other over his shoulder. "'Hey, I bet that's him down there on the next floor. The two searches had emerged upon a wide gallery that commanded a clear view of the main entrance, where various specimens of American fauna were mounted in intriguing replicas of their native habitat.

The guard pointed an accusing finger at one of these groups and sprang toward the stairs. The old gentleman's breath and strength were gone. He could only gaze in the direction that had been indicated by the madly running guard, but he had no doubts. A small boy was certainly digging vigorously at the head of a specimen of Usus Polaris that the curator had represented in the dramatic pose of killing a seal. Protesting whale arose from below as the young naturalist was withdrawn from his field by a capable hand on the slack of his trousers.

And presently, chagrined with failure, the culprit was before his grandson. Gee, he complained. I was only looking at the polar bear. You're old polar bear's white. You'd better take him away, sir, interrupted the sergeant. He was trying to pry out one of the bear's eyes with a stick of the lollipopper gave him. You're taken. The old gentleman extended both hands.

His left found a grip in the grandson's co-collar. His right, partly concealing a government engraving, met the guards with a clasp of gratitude. Sergeant, he remarked in a voice, tense with feeling. A half hour ago, I expressed some ridiculous regrets that Drell's invention had been kept from the world. Now I realize its horrid menace. I shudder to think it might have been responsible for two like him.

The objective disapproval was shaken indicative. Guard the secret well, Sergeant, guarded well. The world's peace depends upon you. The old gentleman's words trembled with conviction. Then, alternately shaking his head and his grandson, he marched down the hallway, Ebony Kane tapping angrily upon the stone. As the exhausted but happy warrior retraced his steps, the high-pitched voice floated after him. Grandpa, a polar bear's always white. Professor Lambert deliberately ventures into a vibrational dimension to join his fiancé in its magnetic torture field. Hell's dimension by Tom Curry. Now, Professor Lambert, tell us what you've done with the body of your assistant, Miss Madge Crawford. Her car is outside your door, stood there since early yesterday morning.

There are no footprints leading away from the house, and you can't expect us to believe that an airplane picked her off the roof. It'll be a lot easier if you tell us where she is. Her parents are greatly worried about her. When they telephoned, you refused to talk to them, would not allow them to speak to Miss Crawford. Well, they're alarmed as to her fate. Why you're not the sort of man who would injure a young woman,

still things do look bad for you. You'd better explain fully. John Lambert, a man of about 36, tall, spare, with black hair which was slightly tinged with grey at the temples in spite of his youth, turned large eyes which were filled with agony upon his questioners. Lambert was already internationally famous for his unique and astounding experiments in the realm of sound and rhythm. He'd been endowed by one of the great electrical companies to do original work, and his laboratory in which he lived was situated in a large track of isolated woodlands

and 40 miles from New York City. It was necessary for that. success of his work that as few disturbing noises as possible be made in the neighbourhood. Many of his experiments with sound and ephoric waves required absolute quiet and freedom from interrupting noises. Delicate nature of some of the machines he used would not tolerate so much as the footsteps of a man within a hundred yards, and a passing car would have disrupted them entirely. Lambert was terribly nervous. He trembled under the gaze of the stern detective, come with several colleagues from a neighbouring town at the call of Madge Crawford's frightened family.

The girl whose picture stood on a working table nearby looked at them from the photograph as a beautiful young woman of 25, light of hair with large eyes and a lovely face. Detective Phillips pointed dramatically at the lightness of the missing girl. "'Can you, uh,' he said, "'look at her there and deny you loved her. And if she did not love you in return, then we have a moment. motive for what you've done jealousy come tell us what you've done with her our men will find her anyway they're searching the cellar for her now you can't hope to keep her alive and if she's dead the lambert uttered a cry of despair and put his face in his long fingers she's she don't say she's

dead now then you did love her exclaimed phillips triumphantly and exchanged glances with his companions of course i love her and she loved me in return we were secretly engaged and were to be married when we'd finished these extremely important experiments it is infamous though to accuse me of having killed her if i've done so and it was no fault of mine ah then you did kill her no no i cannot believe she's really gone why did you evade her parents inquiries because Because I've been trying to bring her to rematerialize her. You mean bring her back to life? Yes.

Couldn't a doctor do that better than you? If she is hidden about here somewhere? Ask Phillips gravely. No, no, no, you don't understand. She cannot be seen. She's dematerialized. Go away. I'm the only man, save possibly my friend Dr. Morgan, who can help her now.

"'And Morgan, well, I thought of calling him, "'but I've been working every instant to get the right combination. "'Just go away, for God's sake.' "'We can't go away till we found out Miss Crawford's fate,' said Phillips patiently. "'Another sleuth entered the immense laboratory. "'He made his way through the myriad strange machines, "'a collection of xylophones and gongs, "'stone slabs cutting peculiar patterns

"'to produce odd rhythmic sounds, "'electric apparatus of all sort. Near Phillips was a plate some feet square of heavy metal raised from the floor on poles of a different substance. About the ceiling was studs thickly set of the same sort of metal as was the big plate. One of the sleuths tapped his forehead, pointing to Lambert as the latter nervously lit a cigarette. The newcomer reported to Phillips, he held in his hand two or three sheets of paper on which something was written. The only other person here is a deaf mute. said the sleuth to Phillips, his superior.

I got his story. He writes that he takes care of things, cooks their meals, and so on. And he writes further that he thinks the woman and this guy Lambert were in love with each other. He has no idea where she's gone to, though. Here, you read it. Phillips took the sheets and continued.

Yesterday morning about ten o'clock, I was passing the door of the laboratory on my way to make up Professor Lambert's bed. Suddenly I noticed this queer, shimmering, greenish-blue light streaming down from the walls and sealing a laboratory. I was right outside the place, and I cannot hear anything. I was knocked down, and I twisted and wriggled and round like a snake. It felt like something with a thousand little paws,

but with great strength, was pushing me every way. When there was a lull and the light had stopped for a few moments, I staggered to my feet and ran madly from my own quarters, scared out of my head. As I went by the kitchen, I saw Miss Crawford at the sink there, fill in some vases and arranging flowers that she usually did every morning. Well, if she called to me, I didn't hear or notice her lips moving. I believe she came to the door.

I was going to quit when I recovered myself, angry at what had occurred. But then I began to feel ashamed for being such a baby, for Professor Lambert had been very good to me. About fifteen minutes later I went to my room, and I was able to return. to the kitchen. Miss Crawford was not there, though the flowers and vases were. And as I started to work, still a little alarmed, Professor Lambert came rushing into the kitchen, an expression of terror on his face. His mouth was open, I think he was calling. Then he ran out, back to the laboratory, and I'm not seeing mismatch since. Professor Lambert's been almost continuously

in the workroom since then, and I keep away from it, because I was afraid. Two more members of Phillips's squad broke into the laboratory and came toward the chief. They'd been working at physical labor, for they were still perspiring, and one regarded his hands with a rueful expression. Any luck? asked Phillips eagerly. Norbus. We were in all over the place, and we dug every spot we could to get Earth in the cellar. Most of its three-inch concrete, without a sign of a break. Did you look in the furnace? Ah, we looked there first thing. She ain't there.

There were several more closets in the laboratory, and Phillips opened all of them and inspected them. As he moved near the big plate, Lambert uttered a cry of warning. Don't disturb that. Don't touch anything near it. All right, all right, said Phillips testily. The sceptical slews had classified Lambert as a nut and were practically sure he'd done away with Madge Crawford because she wouldn't marry him. Still, they needed better evidence than their mere beliefs. She was no corpus delicti, for instance.

Genabon, said Lambert at last, controlling his emotions with a great effort. I will admit you that I am in trepidation and a state of mental torture as to Miss Crawford's faith. You are delaying matters, keeping me from my work. I think about work when the girl he claims he loves has disappeared, said Docherty in a loud whisper to Phillips. Doherty was one of the sloughs who'd been digging in the cellar,

and the hard work had made his temper short. "'You must help us find Miss Crawford before we can let you alone,' said Phillips. "'Can't you understand that you're under grave suspicion of having injured her, hidden her away?' "'Well, this is a serious matter, Professor Lambert. "'Your experiments can wait.' "'This one cannot,' shouted Lambert, shaking his fists. "'You are fools!' "'Steady now,' said Docket.

perhaps you better come with us to the district attorney's office went on phillips there you may come to your senses and realize the futility of trying to cover up your crime if you've committed one if you have not why do you tell us where miss crawford is because i don't know myself replied lambert but you can't take me away from here i beg of you gentlemen allow me a little more time i must have it philip shook his head not unless you tell us logically what's occurred he said then i must though i do not think you'll comprehend or even believe me briefly it is this yesterday morning i was working on the final series of experiments with a new type of harmonic overtones plus a new type of sinusoidal current which i had arranged with a series of selenium cells when i finally threw the switch remember i was many weeks before preparing this apparatus, and I'd just put the final touches on early that morning. Well, there was a sound such as never heard before by human ears, an indescribable sound, terrified and mysterious. Also, there was a fierce, devouring verdied of blue light. This came from the plates and studs, you see, but so great was his strength that it got out

of control and leaped about the room like a live thing. For some moments, while it increased in intensity, as I raised the power of the current by means of the switch I had in my hand. I watched and listened in fascination. My instruments had ceased to record. Well, they're the most delicate ever invented and can handle almost anything which man can even surmise. The perspiration was pouring from Lambert's face as he recounted his story. The detectives listened, comprehending but a little of the meaning of the scientist's words. What has this to do with Miss Crawford? asked Docherty impatiently.

Phillips held up his hand to silence the other slew. "'Let him finish,' he ordered. "'Go on, Professor.' "'All the sensations which I was undergoing became unendurable,' went on lamberts in a low hoarse voice. "'I was forced to cry out in pain and confusion. "'Oh, Miss Crawford evidently heard my call. "'For a few moments later, just as the terrific unknown force reached its apex,

"'she dashed into the laboratory and stepped across the plate, you see that?' "'I was powerless. though I shut off the current by a superhuman effort. Well, she... She was gone. When Lambert put his face in his hands, the sob shook his broad shoulders. Gone? repeated Phillips.

What do you mean, gone? She disappeared before my very eyes, said the professor, shakily, taunted to nothingness by the fierce force of the current or sound. Since then, I've been trying to reproduce the conditions of the experiment, for I wish to bring her back. If I cannot do so, then I want to join her wherever she's gone. I love her.

I know now that I cannot possibly live without her. Will you please leave me alone now, so that I can continue? Dockety laughed derisively. What a story, he jeered. Keep quiet, Doggedly, ordered Phillips. Now, Professor Lambert, your explanation of Miss Crawford's disappearance does not sound logical to us, but still we're willing to give you every chance to bring her back if what you say is true we cannot leave you entirely alone because you might try to escape or you might carry out your threat of suicide and therefore i'm going to sit over there in the corner quietly where i can watch you but will not interfere with your work

we'll give you until midnight to prove your story then you must go with us to the district attorney you agree to that lambert nodded eagerly I agree. Let me work in peace, and if I do not succeed, then you may take me any way you wish, if you can, he added in an undertone. Docketty and the others at Phillips' orders filed from the laboratory. One more thing, Professor, said Phillips, when they were alone and the professor was preparing to work. How do you explain the fact that, if your story is true, that Miss Crawford was killed and made it disappear, or you yourself close by were uninjured? "'And you see these garments?' asked Lambert, indicating some black clothes which lay on a bench nearby. They insulated me from the current and partially protected me from the sound. Oh, though the force was very great, great enough to penetrate my insulation,

it was handicapped in my case because of these garments. I see. Well, you may go on. Philis moved in the chair he'd taken from time to time. You could hear the noises of his man, still searching the premises for Madge Crawford, and Professor Lambert heard them too. Will you tell your man to be quiet? he cried at last. There were dark circles under Lambert's eyes. He was working in a state of feverish anxiety. When the girl he laughed to dematerialize for under his eyes, panic had seized him.

He'd ripped away wires to break the current and lost the thread of his experiment, so that he could not reproduce it exactly without much labour. The scientist put on the black robes and Phillips wished he too had some protective armour, even though he did believe that Lambert had told them a parcel of lies. The deaf-mute story was not too reassuring. Phillips warned his companions to be more quiet, and he himself sat quite still. Lambert knew that the sleuth thought he was stark mad. He was aware of the fact that he had but a few hours in which to save the girl,

who come at his cry, to help him, who had loved him, and whom he loved, only to be torn into some place unknown by the forces which were released in his experiment, and he knew he would rather die with her than live without her. He laboured feverishly, though he tried to keep his brain calm in order to win. His notes helped him up to a certain point, but when he'd made the final touches, he'd not had time to bring the data up to that moment, being eager to test out his apparatus. It was while testing that the awful event had occurred, and he'd seen Madge Crawford disappear before his very eyes.

Her eyes, large and frightened, burned in his mind. The deaf-mute, Felix, a small spare man of about fifty, sent the professor some food and coffee through one of the sleuths. Lambert swallowed the coffee, but waved away the rest impatiently. Phillips, watching his suspect constantly, was served a light supper at the end of the afternoon. There seemed to be a million wires to be touched, tested, and various strange apparatus. Several times later on in the evening, Lambert threw the big switch with an air of expectancy, but little happened. Then Lambert will go to work again, testing, testing, adjusting, adjusting this and that until Phillips swore under his breath.

"'Only an hour more, Professor,' said Phillips, "'who was bored to death and cramped from trying to obey the professor's orders to keep still. "'The circle of cigarette ends surrounded the slew. "'Only an hour,' agreed Lambert. "'Will you please be quiet, my man? "'This is a matter of my fiancé's life or death.' "'Philips was somewhat disgruntled, "'for he felt he'd done Lambert quite a favour in allowing him to remain in the laboratory for so long to prove his story.

I wish Dr. Morgan were here. I ought to have sent for him, I suppose, said Lambert a few minutes later. Will you allow me to get him? I cannot seem to perfect this last stage. No time now, declared Phillips. I said till midnight. It was obvious to Lambert that the detective had become certain during the course of the evening that the scientist was mad.

The ceaseless fiddling and the lack of results or even spectacular sights had convinced Phillips that he was dealing with a cranks. Oh, I think I have it now, said Lambert coolly. What? asked Phillips. The original combination. I'd forgotten one detail in the excitement, and this threw me off. Now I believe I will succeed in one way or another. I warn you, be careful.

I'm about to release forces which may get out of my control. Well, now, don't get reckless, begged Phillips nervous. The array of machines had impressed him even if Lambert did see him a fool. You insist upon remaining so it's your own risk, said Lambert. Lambert, in those strange robes, was a bizarre figure. The hood was thrown back, exposing his pale, black-bearded face, the one eyes with dark circles under them and the twitching lips. If you find yourself leaving this veil of tears, went on the scientist, ironically, to a

asleep. You will at least have the comfort of realizing that as the sound force disintegrates your mortal form, you're only the first man to be attuned to the vibrations of the unknown sound world. All matter is vibration. That's been proven. A building of bricks, if shaken in the right manner, falls into its component parts. A bridge, crossed by soldiers in certain rhythmic time, is torn from its moorings. A tuning fork, receiving the sound vibrations from one of a similar size and shape begins to vibrate in turn. Now, these are homely analogies, but apply to the less familiar sound vibrations which

make up our atomic world, they may help you to understand how the terrific forces I have discovered can disintegrate flesh. The scientist looked then, inquiringly, at Phillips. As the sleuth did not move, but sat with folded arms, Lambert shrugged and said, I'm ready. Lambert raised his hood, and Philip said, in the spirit of bravado. You can't scare me out of here.

Oh, here goes a switch, cried Lambert. He made the contact, as he had before. He stood for a moment, and this time the current gained force. The experimenter pushed his lever all the way over. Terrible greenish-blue light suddenly illuminated the laboratory, and through the air there came sound vibrations which seemed to tell. at Phillips's body. He found himself on the floor, knocked from his chair, and he writhed this way and that, speechless, suffering a torment of agony. His whole flesh seemed to tremble in unison with the waves which emanated from the machines which Lambert manipulated. After what seemed hours to the suffering sleuth, the force diminished, and soon Phillips was able to rise. Trembling,

the detective cursed and yelled for help in a high-pitched voice. Lambert had thrown back his hood, and was rocking to and fro in agony. Match, match, match, he cried. What have I done? Come back to me, come back. Dockerton and the others came running in at their chief shouts. Arrest them, ordered Phillips shakily. I've taken enough of this nonsense.

The detective started for Lambert. He saw them coming and swiftly threw off the protective garments he wore. Stand back, he cried, and threw the swift. switch all the way over. The verdity green light smashed through the air, and the queer sound sensation smacked and tore at them. Docketty, who had drawn a revolver when he was answering Phillips's cries, fire the gun into the air, and the report seemed to battle with the vibrating ether. Lambert, as he threw the switch, leaped forward and landed on the metal plate under the ceiling studs, in the very centre of the awful disturbance and unprotected from its force.

For a few moments, Lambert felt racking pain, as though something were tearing at his flesh, separating the very atoms. The scientists saw the wriggling figures of the sleuths in various strange positions, but his impressions were confused. His head whirled round and round. He swayed to and fro, and finally he thought he'd fallen down, or rather that he'd melted, as a lump of sugar dissolves in water. He's gone.

gone. In the heart of nothingness was Lambert, his body torn and wracked in a shrieking chaos of sound and a blinding glare of iridescent light, which seemed too much to bear. His last conscious thought was a prayer that, having failed to bring back his sweetheart, Madge Crawford, he was undergoing a step toward the same

destination to which he'd sent her. John Lambert came too with a shudder, but it was not a mortal shudder. He could sense no body had no sense of being confined by matter. He was in a strange, chilly place, a twilight region, limitless, without dimensions. Yet he could feel something, in an impersonal way, vaguely indifferent. He had no pain now. He was moving somehow, and he had one impelling desire, and that was to discover Madge Crawford.

Perhaps it was this thought which directed his movements. intent upon finding the girl, if she was indeed in this same strange world that he was, he didn't notice for some time how long he had no way of telling, that there were other beings which tried to impede his progress. But as he grew more accustomed to the unfamiliar sensations he was undergoing, he found his path blocked again and again by queer beings. They were living without doubt, and had intelligence and evinced facility towards him. But they were shapeless.

shapeless as amoebas. He heard them in a sort of soundless whisper and could see them without the use of his eyes. And he shuddered, though he could feel no body in which he might be confined. Still, when he pinched viciously with invisible fingers at the spot where his face should have been, a twinge of pain registered on the vague consciousness which appeared to be all there was of him. He was not sure of his substance, though he could evidently experience human sensations with his morph his body. He didn't know whether he could see, yet he was dodging this way and that, as the beings who occupied this world tried to stop him. They gave him the impressions of grey shapes, and in coppery shadows things gleamed and closed in on him. He seemed to hear a cry,

and he knew that he was receiving a call for help from Madge Crawford. He tried to run, pushed determinedly toward the spot, impelled by his love for this girl. Now, as he hurried, he occasionally was stopped short by collision with the formless shapes which were all about him. He was hampered by them, for they followed him, making sound like wind heard in a dream. Whatever medium he was in was evidently thickly inhabited by these hostile beings, who claimed this world as their own. He could naturally feel the medium. He could sense that it was heavy. He leaped and ran, fighting his way through the increasing hosts,

and the roar of their voice impressions increased in his consciousness. Yet there seemed to be nothing, nothing tangible save vagueness. He felt he was in a blind spot in space, a place of no dimensions, no time, where beings are bored by nature, things which had never developed any dimensional laws existed. A cry for help struck him, with more force this time. Lambert, whatever form he was in, realized that he was close to the end of his own. journey to Madge Crawford. He tried to speak and had the impression that he'd said something reassuring. He then bumped into some vibrational being which he knew was Madge. His ears could not

hear, nor could his flesh feel, but his whole form or cerebrum sensed he held the woman he loved in his arms. And she was speaking to him, in accents of fear, begging him to save her. "'John, John, you've come at last. "'They've been torturing me terribly. "'Save me. "'Darling, Match, I'll do everything I can. "'Now I've found you, and we're together. "'We'll never part.

"'Can you hear me?' "'I know what you're thinking, "'and what you wish to say. "'I can exactly hear. "'All seems vague and impossible. "'Had I can suffer. "'They've been hitting me with something "'which makes me shudder and shake.

they're at it again. Lambert felt these sensations now, which the girl had made no to him. He felt crowded by grey beings and his existence was troubled by spasms of pain impressions. He knew Madge was crying out too. He couldn't comprehend the attacks or guessed their meaning, but this situation was unendurable.

Anger shook him and he began to fight furiously but vaguely. They were closely hemmed in. but when Lambert began to strike out with his hands and legs, the beings gave way a little. The scientist tried to shout, and we could actually hear nothing. The result was gratifying. The formless creatures seemed to scatter and draw back in confusion as he yelled his defiance. They hate that, Match said to him. I've screamed myself hoarse, and that's why they've not killed me if I can be killed.

I do not believe we can, but they can torture. replied Lambert it's an everlasting half-life or quarter-life and these creatures who call this hell's dimension home have nothing but hatred for us in their consciousness the inhabitants of this imperfect world are closed in once again and the sharp instruments of torture they used were being thrust into the invisible bodies of the two humans each time Lambert was unable to restrain his cries for it seemed that he was being torn to pieces by vibrations he yelled until he could not speak above a whisper, or at least until the impressions of speech he gave

forth did not trouble the beings. The two humans, still bound to some extent by their mortal beliefs, were chivied to and fro, and struck and bullied. The creatures seemed to delight in this sport. Two felt they could not die, and yet they could suffer terribly. Would this go on, through eternity? Was there no release? Now they were trying to tear Madge away from him. She was fighting them, and Lambert, in a frenzy of rage, made a determined effort to get away with the girl from their tormentors. They retreated before his onslaughts. Drawing Madge after him, Lambert put down his head, or believed he was doing so, and ran as fast as he could at the beings. He bumped into some invisible forms and was slowed in his rush, but he shouted and flailed about with his arms and tried to kick.

Madge helped by screaming and striking out. They made some distance in this way, or so they thought, and the horrid creatures gave way before them. All about them was the coppery sensation of the medium in which they moved. Lambert, as he became more used to the form he was inhabiting, began to think he could discern dreadful eyes which stared unblinkingly at the couple. He fought on and believed they'd come to a spot where the beings did not molest them, but they still sensed the things glaring at them. Were they on some invisible eminence,

the reach of these queer creatures. We might as well stop here. If you try to go further, we may come to a worse place, said Lambert. So they rested there, in temporary peace, together at last. I seem to be happy now, said Mudge, clinging close. I feared I would never see you again. Oh, John, dear. I ran to you when you caught out that day, and when I crossed the plate,

I was torn and racked and knocked down. When a next experienced sensation, it was in this terrible form. I'm becoming more used to it, but I kept crying out for you. The beings, as soon as they discovered my presence, began to torment me. More and more of being collecting, and I have a sensation of seeing them as horrible, revolting beasts. John, I don't think I could have stood it much longer if you hadn't come to me. They would drive me on, and on and on, ceaselessly torturing me.

"'Ah, curse them,' said Lambert. "'I wish I could really get hold of some of them. "'Perhaps, Match, I will be able to think of some escape for us from this hell's dimension.' "'Yes, darling. "'I couldn't bear to think we're eternally damned to exist among these beings, "'hurt by them and unable to get away. "'How I wish we were back in the laboratory at the tea-table. "'How happy we were there.

"'And we will be again, Match.' "'Well, Lambert was far from he found. feeling hopeful, but he tried to encourage the girl into thinking they might get away. However, he was unable to dissimulate, and she felt his anguish for her safety. But I know now that you love me, I can feel it stronger than ever before, John. It seems like a great rock to which I can always cling. Your love protects me from the hatred that these beasts pour out against us. Since they had no sense of time, they couldn't tell how long they were allowed to remain unmolested.

but in each other's company they were happy though each one was afraid for the safety of the other they spoke of the mortal life they'd lived and their love they felt no need for food or water they just clung together in a dimensionless universe held up by love well the lull came to an end at last there was no change in the coppery vagueness about them which they sensed as the surrounding ether but all was changeless, boundless. Lambert, close to Madge Crawford, felt that they were about to be attacked. He had swift, temporary impressions of seeing saucer-like unblinking eyes, and then horns of bizarre inhabitants starting to climb up to their perch.

For a short while, Lambert and Maj fought them off, thrusting at them, seeming to push them backward down this untangible slope. The cries which the dematerialized humans uttered also helped. helped to hold the leaders of the attacking army partially in check but the vast number of beings swept forward the thrusts of the torture fields they emanated became more and more racking as the two unfortunate shudder in horror and pain the power to demonstrate loud noise was evidently impossible to the creatures for their sounds came to madge crawford and john lambert as long drawn out almost unbearable squeaks mouse-liking character Perhaps they'd never had the faculty of speech, since they did not need it to communicate with one another.

Perhaps they realized that the racket they could make would hurt them as much as it did their enemies. Lambert, Madge clinging to him, was forced backward down the slope, and the beings had the advantage of height. He could not again reach the eminence, but the way behind seemed to clear quickly enough, though thrusts were made at him innumerable times with the torture field. and the hordes pushed them backward ever back they were forced on for some distance and as they retreated the way became easier and fewer and fewer of the beings impeded the channel along which they moved they were in front of them and on all sides above beneath and below they were pressed by the hordes they're forcing us to some place they want us to go said lambert desperately

we can't do anything more replied the girl lambert felt her quiet con confidence in him and that as long as they were together all was well maybe they can kill us somehow he said and now Lambert felt the way was clear to the rear it was a sudden rush of the creatures and needle-like fields were impelled viciously into the spaces the two humans occupied mage cried out in pain and Lambert shouted the throng drew away from them as suddenly as it had surged forward and in an instant later the pair clinging together felt like they were falling, falling, falling. Are you all right, match? Yes, John. But he knew she was suffering. How long they fell he did not know, but they stopped at last. No sooner had they

come to rest than they were assailed with sensations of pain which made both cry out in anguish. There in the spot where they'd been thrust by the hordes, they felt that there was some terrific vibration which racked and tore at their invisible forms continuously, sending them into spasms of sharp misery. They were both forced to give vent to their feelings by loud cries, but they could not command their movements any longer. When they tried to get away, their limbs moved, but they felt that they remained in the same spot.

The pain shook every fraction of their souls. Where, in some pit of hell, into which they've thrown us, John? gasmage he knew she was shivering with a torture of that great vibration from which there was no escape that they were in a prison pit of hell's dimension john i'm dying but he was powerless to help her because he suffered as much as she yet there was no weakening of his sensations he was in as much torture as he'd been at the start he knew that they could not die and could never escape from this misery of hell. The cries seemed to disturb the vacuum about them. Lambert, shivering and shaking with pain, was aware that great eyes, similar to those which they thought they saw above, were now upon

them. Squeaks were impressed upon him, squeaks which expressed disapprobation. There were some of the beings in the pit with them. Marge knew they were there too, and she cried out in terror. will they add to our misery but the creatures in the vacuum were pinned to the spots they occupied as were madge and lambert from their squeaks it was evident they suffered too and were fellow prisoners of the mortals probably the cries we made disturb them said lambert vibrations to which we and they are not attuned or torture to the form we're in evident the inhabitants of this hell world punish offenders by condemning them to this eternal torture why why do they treat us so perhaps we jarred upon them hurt them because we're not of their kind exactly said lambert perhaps it's just

their natural hatred of us as strangers they did not grow used to the terrible eternity of torments no if anything it grew worse as it went on still they could visualize no end to the existence to which they were round. Throbs of awful intensity rent them, tore them apart, myriad times, yet they still felt as keenly as before and suffered just as much. There was no death for them, no release from the intangible world in which they were. Their fellow prisoners squeaked at them as though imploring them not to add to the agony by uttering discordant cries. But it was impossible for managed to keep quiet and Lambert shouted in anguish from time to time there seemed to be no end to it and yet after what was eternity to the sufferers match spoke hopefully darling john i fear i'm really going to die

i'm growing weaker i can feel the pain very little now it's all vague and it's getting less real to me goodbye sweetheart i love you and i always will Lambert uttered a strangled cry, No, no, don't leave me, match. He clung to her, yet she was becoming extremely intangible to him. She was melting away from his embrace, and Lambert felt that he too was weaker, even less real than he had been.

He hoped that if it was the end, that they would go together. Desperately he tried to holder with him, but he had little ability to do so. The torture was still racking his consciousness, but was becoming more dreamlike. That was a terrific snap, suddenly, and Lambert lost all consciousness. What? Lambert, opening his eyes, felt his body writhing about, an experienced pain that was mortal. A bluish-green light dazzled his pupils and made him blink.

Something cut into his flesh, and Lambert rolled about, trying to escape. He bumped into something, something soft. He clung to this form and knew he was holding on to a human being. Then the light died out, and in its stead was the yellow, normal glow of the electric lights. Weak, famished, almost dead of thirst, Lambert looked about him at the familiar sights of his laboratory. He was lying on the floor, close by the metal plate, and at his side, unconscious but still alive, judging by her rising and falling breast was madge crawford someone bent over him and pressed a glass of

water against his lips he drank watching while a mortal whom lambert at last realized was detective phillips bathed madge crawford's temples with water from a picture and forced a little between her pale drawn lips Lambert tried to rise but he was too weak and required assistance he was dazed still and they sat him down in the chair and allowed him to come to he shuddered from time to time for he still thought he could feel the torture which he'd been undergoing but he was worried about Madge and watched anxiously as Phillips assisted by another man worked over the girl at last Madge stirred and moaned faintly they lifted her to a bench where they gently restored her to full consciousness. When she could sit up, she at once cried out for Lambert. The scientist had recovered enough to rise to his feet and staggered toward her.

Here I am, darling, here I am, he said. John, we're alive. We're back in the laboratory. Ah, Lambert, glad to see you. The heavy voice spoke, and Lambert for the first time noticed the black-clad figure which stood to one side, near the switchboard, hidden. by a large piece of apparatus. Dr. Morgan, cried Lambert.

Alphus Morgan, the renowned physicist, came forward calmly with outstretched hand. So you realised your great ambition, he said curiously. But where would you be if I had not been able to bring you back? In hell. Well, hell's dimension anyway, said Lambert. When he went to Madge, took her in his arms, darling we're safe morgan has managed to rematerialize us we'll never again be cast into the void in this way i shall now destroy the apparatus and all my knots docketty who had been out of the room on some errand came back to the laboratory he shouted when he saw lambert standing before him you got him he cried hey where was he hiding his eyes fell upon madge crawford den and he exclaimed in satisfaction.

Ah, you found her, eh? No, said Phillips. They came back. They suddenly appeared out of nothing, Docherty. Ah, don't kid me, growled Doggedy. They were hiding in the closet somewhere. Maybe they can fool you guys, but not me. Lambert spoke to Phillips.

I'm starving. I think Miss Crawford must be, too. Will you tell Felix to bring us some food? Plenty of it. One of the slews went to the kitchen to give the order, and then Lambert turned to Morgan. How did you manage to bring us back? he asked. Morgan shrugged. It's all guesswork at the last.

I at first could check the apparatus by your notes, and this took some time. You know you've written me in detail about what you were working on, so when I was summoned by Detective Phillips, who said you'd mentioned my name to him as the only one who could help. I could make a good conjecture as to what it occurred. I heard the stories of all concerned and realized that you must have dematerialized Miss Crawford by mistake and then, unable to bring her back, had followed yourself. Well, I put on your insulation outfit and went to work.

I've not left here for a moment, but have snatched an hour or two asleep from time to time. Detective Phillips has been very good and helpful. Well, finally, I had everything in shape, but I reversed the apparatus in vital spots and tried each combination until suddenly a few minutes ago you were rematerialized. It was a desperate chance, but I was forced to take it in an endeavor to save you. Lambert held out his hand to his friend. I can never thank you enough, he said gratefully. You saved us from a horrible fate. You speak as though we'd been gone for a long while. Was it many hours? hours, repeated Morgan, his lips parting under his black beard.

Man, it was eight days. You've been gone since a week ago last night. Lambert turned to Phillips. Well, I must ask you not to release his story of the newspapers, he begged. Philip smiled and turned up his hands in a gesture of Frank Wonder. Professor Lambert, he said, I can't believe what I see myself. If I told such a yarn to the reporter's list.

They'd never forget it. They'd kick me out of the department. They were just hiding in a closet, growled dockety. Come on, we've wasted too much time on this job already. Just a couple of nuts, I say. The sleuths, after Phillips had shaken hands with Lambert, left the laboratory. Morgan, a large man of middle age, joined them in a meal which Felix served at the three on a folding table brought in for the purpose. Felix was terribly glad to see Madeline Lambert again.

and manifested his joy by many bobs and leaps as he waited upon them a grin spread across his face from ear to ear oh Morgan asked innumerable questions they described as best what they could recall of the strange dominion in which they'd been and the physicist listened intently well it is some hell's dimension as you call it he said at last where it is or exactly i cannot say said Lambert. I surely have no desire to return to that world of hate. Matt, happy now, smiled at him, he leaned over and kissed her tenderly. We've come from hell together, said Lambert. And now, we're in heaven. As Jerry's eyes fell on the creature's head, he shuddered. For the face was nothing but bone, the dull brown skin stretched taut over it.

A skeleton that was alive, the man who was dead by Thomas H. Knight. It was a wicked night. The night I met the man who died. A bitter, heart-numbing night of weird, shrieking wind and flying snow. A few black arrows that I will never forget. Well, Jerry lad, my mother said to me as I pushed back from the table and started for my sheepskin coat and the lantern in the corner of the room. Sure you're not going out on a night like this.

Oh, goodness gracious, Jerry. It's not fit. I can't help it, Mother, I replied. Got to go. You've never seen me miss a Saturday night yet, have you now? No, but I've never seen a night like this for years either. Jerry, I'm really afraid. You may freeze before you even get as far as... Come on now, Mom, I argued.

It ain't got me to death if I didn't sit. with the gang tonight. They'd chaffed me because it was too cold for me to get out. Well, I'm no pampered little mom's boy. You know that. Anyway, I want to see. Yes, she retorted, bitingly. I know.

You want to go and bask in that elegant company? Our stove's just as good as the one down at that dirty old store. Continued my persistent and anxious parent. It's certainly not very flattering to think that you'll leave us on a night like this to well, we'll be there anyway. Ah, the usual five or six, I suppose. I answered as I adjusted the wick of my lantern, hearing as I did the snarl and cut of the wind through the evergreens in the yard.

That black whiskered the sphinx, Hammersly, will he be there? Yeah, he'll be there, I'm pretty sure. Hmm, she exclaimed, her expression now carrying all the contempt for my judgment and taste that she intended it should. button up your coat good around your neck then, if you must go and see your precious hammersly and the rest of them. Have you ever heard that man say anything yet? Does he speak at all, Jerry? And then her gentle mind, not at all custom to hard thoughts or contemptuous remarks, quickly changed.

Funny thing about that fellow, she mused. He's got something on his mind. Don't you think so, Jerry? Yes, yes, I do. And I've often wondered what it could be. He's certainly a strange one. I've got to admit that. Always brooding.

A good fellow, all right. Nessor a sphinx, as you call him. Well, he's likable. But I do wonder what's eating him. What do you suppose you could be, Jerry Boy? Questioned mother, following me to the door, with a woman of her now completely forgetting her recent criticisms, and perhaps the rough night her son was about to step into.

Do you suppose the poor chap has a broken heart or something like that? A girl somewhere who jilted him. Maybe he loves someone he has no right to. She finished excitedly. The plates in her hand rattling. Maybe it's worse than that, I ventured. Perhaps, I've no right to say it, but perhaps, and I've often thought it, there's a killing he wants to forget and can.

I heard my mother's sharp little, as I shut the door behind me, and the warmth and comfort of the room went away. On the side it was worse than the whistle of the wind through the trees had led me to expect. Pitch black as it was, and as cold as it blazed. At the first moment or two I felt like, well, like I felt like the challenge of the night and the racing elements was even little glad that I had added to the dare of the blackness, and the thought of Hammersley and his killing. But I had not gone far before I was wishing, I didn't have to save my face by putting in an appearance at the

store that night every Saturday night with the cows comfortable in their warm barns and my own supper over I was in the habit of taking my place on the keg or box behind the red hot stove in Pruitt store tonight all the snow was being held clear of the fields to block the roads full between the old zigzag fences the wind met me in great pushing gusts and while it flung itself at me I'd hang against it snowed to my knees until the blow had gone along and I could plunge forward again I was glad when I saw the lights of the storm glad more when I was inside well they met me with mock applause for my pluck in facing the night but for all their sham flattery I was

pleased I'd come proud I must admit that I'd been able to plough my heavy way through the drifts to reach them I saw a glance that my friends were all there and I saw too that there was a strange man present. The very tall man he was, gaunt and awkward as he leaned into the angle of the two counties, his back to a dusty showcase. He attracted my attention at once, not merely because he appeared so long and pointed and skinny,

but because of all the ridiculous things in that frozen country, he wore a hard derby head. If he'd not been such a strange character, it would have been laughable, but, well, as it was, it was creepy, for the man beneath that hard hat was about as strange-looking character as I'd ever seen. I suppose he was a visitor at the store, or a friend of one of my friends, and that in a little while I would be introduced. But I wasn't.

I took my place in behind the stove, feeling at once, though, and far from being unsociable usually, that this man was an indomely. intruder and would end up spoiling the evening. But despite his cold, dampening presence, we were soon at it, hammer and tongs, discussing the things that are discussed behind hospital stoves in country stores on bad nights. But I could never lose sight of the fact that the stranger was standing there, silent as the graven, was, to say the least, a very strange one. Before long I was sure he was no friend or guest of anyone there, and that not only had he cast a pall over me, but over all of us. I didn't like it, nor did I like him.

Perhaps it would have been just as well after all, I thought, had I heeded my mother's advice and stayed home. Jed Counsel was the one who, innocently enough, started a thing that changed the evening, that had begun so badly into a nightmare. Jerry, he said, leaning across to me, thinking of you this afternoon reading an article about reincarnation remember what we was arguing last week well this guy whoever he was i forgot he believes in it says it's so that people do come back with this opening shot jed sat back to await my answer i like these arguments and i tried to bear my share in them but now instead of immediately answering the challenge i look round to see if any of our circle were going to answer Jed. Then, deciding that it was up to me, I shrugged off the strange feeling the man in the corner had cast over me,

and prepared to view my opinions. Well, that's just a fellow's belief, Jed, I said. Just as he's got his, so I have mine. And on this subject, at least, I claim my opinion is as good as anybody's. Well, I was just getting nicely started, and a little forgetting my distaste for the man in the corner. when the fellow himself interrupted. He left his leaning place

and came creaking across the floor to our circle around the store. I say he came creaking, for, well, he did creak when he came. Shoes, I naturally, almost unconsciously, decided, though the crazy notion was in my mind that the cracking I heard did sound like bones and joints and sinews

badly in need of oil. The stranger, sat his groaning self down among us, on a board lying across a nail-keg in an old chair. Only from the corner of my eye did I see his movement. Being friendly enough, despite my dislike, not to allow too marked notice of his attempt to be sociable and seem inhospitable on my part. I was about to start again with my argument, when Seth Spears, sitting closest to the newcomer, deliberately got up from the bench and went to the counter, telling Pruitt as he went that he had to have some sugar. well it was all a farce a pretext i knew i've known seff for years and have never known him before

to take upon himself the buying for his wife's kitchen seth simply would not sit beside this man at that i could keep my eyes from the stranger no longer and the next moment i felt my heart turn over within me and then lie still i've seen walking skeletons in circuses but Never such a man as the one who was sitting then but my right-hand side. Those sideshow men, well, they were just lean in comparison to the fellow who'd invaded our Saturday nightclub. Oh, his thighs and his legs and his knees, sticking sharply into his trousers, looked like pieces of an inchboard. His shoulders and his chest seemed as flat and as sharp as his legs. On the side of the man shocked me.

as prided to my feet thoroughly frightened. I couldn't see much of his face, sitting there in the dark as he was, with his back to the yellow light, but I could make out enough of it to know that it was in keeping with the rest of him. In a moment or two, realizing my childishness, I'd fought down my fear and pretending that a scorching off my leg had caused my hurried movement. I sat down again. None of the others said a word, each waiting for me to continue. and to break the embarrassing silence.

Hammersley, black whisked the sphinx, as my mother had called him, watched me closely. Hating myself not a little bit for actually being the idiot who I boasted I was not. I spoke hurriedly, loudly to cover my confusion. Ah, no, sir, Jed, I said, taking up my argument. A man's dead, he's dead. There's no bringing him back like that high-brow claim. The old heart may be only hitting about once every hundred times, and if they catch it right

at the last stroke, they may bring it back then, but once she's stopped yet, she's stopped for good. Once the pulse is gone and the life is flickered out, it's out. It doesn't come back in any form at all. No, not in this world. I was glad when I'd said it, thereby asserting myself and doubting my foolish fear of the man whose eyes I felt burning into me. I didn't turn to look at him, but all the while I felt his gimlety eyes

digging into my brain. And then, he spoke. And though he sat right next to me, his voice sounded like a moan from afar off. It was the first time we'd heard this thing that once may have been a voice and that now sounded like a groan from a closely nailed coffin.

I reached a hand toward my knee to enforce his words, but I jerked away. So, you don't believe a man can come back from the grave, eh? He grated. Believe that once a man's heart is still, it's stuff for good, eh? Well, you're all wrong, Sonny. All wrong. You believe these things, but I know them.

His interference, his condescension, his whole head. hatefulness angered me. I can now no longer control my feeling. Oh, you know, do you? I sneered. On such a subject as this, you're entitled to know, are you? Don't make me laugh. I finished insultingly. Well, I was intrigued. I'm a big fellow with no reason to fear ordinary men. Yes, I know. Came back his echoing, scratching voice. How do you know? I mean, maybe you've been... I have. He answered. His voice breaking to a squeak. Take a good look at me, gentlemen.

Good. He knew now that he held the center of the stage, that the moment was his. Slowly he raised an arm to remove that ridiculous hat. And again, I jumped to my feet. For as his coat sleeve slipped down his forearm, I saw nothing but bone supporting his hand. And the hand that then bared his head was a skeleton hand. Slowly the hat was lifted.

But as quickly as light, six able-body men were on their feet and halfway to the door before we realized the cowardliness of it. We forced ourselves back inside the store very slowly. All of us rather ashamed of our ridiculous and childlike fear. But it was all enough to make the blood curdle with that living but dead thing sitting there by our fire. His face and skull were nothing but bone. The eyes deeply sunk into their sockets, the dull brown skin like parchment in its torqueness, drawn and shriveled down onto the nose and jaw.

There were no cheeks, just hollows. The mouth was a sharp slit beneath the flat nose. my god he was hideous I'll come back and I'll tell you my yard he mocked the slit that was his mouth opening a little to show us the empty blackened gums I've been dead once

he went on getting a lot of satisfaction from the weirdness of the lie and from our fear and I came back come and sit down and I'll explain why I'm this living scape we came back slowly and as I did I slipped my hand into my outside pocket where I had a revolver put my finger in on the trigger and got ready to use the vicious little thing I was

on edge and torn to pieces completely by the sight of this man and I doubt not that had he made a move towards me my afraid nerves would have plugged him full of leg I eyed my friends. They were in no better way than I was. Fright and horror stood on each face. Hammersley was the worst. His hands were twitching. His eyes were bright like glass, and his face bleached and drawn. Oh, I've quite a yarn to tell, went on the skeleton in his awful voice. I've had quite a life, a full life. I've taken my fun and my pleasure wherever I could. Maybe you'll call me selfish and greedy, but I always used to believe that a man only passed his way once.

Just like you, Billy. He nodded to me, his neck muscles and jaws creaking. Six years ago I came up into this country and got a job on a farm. He went on now, settling into his story. Just an ordinary job. but I liked it because the farmer had a pretty little daughter of about 16 or 17 and as easy as could be. You may not believe it, but you can still find dames green enough to fall for the right story. This one did.

I told her I was only out there for a time for my health. I was rich back in the city with a fine home and everything. Ah, she believed me, a little. He chuckled as he said it, and my anger, mounting with his every devilish word, made the finger on the trigger in my pocket take a tighter crook to itself. I asked her to skip with me. The droning went on, made her a lot of great promises and she fell for it. His dry jawbones clanked and chattered as if he enjoyed the beastly recital of his achievement. while we sat gaping at him, believing either that the man must be mad, or that we were the mad

ones, or we were dreaming. We slipped away one night, continued the beast, went to the city, to a cheap hotel. For three weeks we stayed there. And one morning I told her I was going out for a shave. I was, I got the shave, that I hadn't thought it worth while to tell. I wouldn't be bad. Well, she got back to the farm some way. Though I don't know.

What? I shouted, springing before him. What? You mean you left her there? After you'd taken her, you left her. Here you sit crowing over it. Gloting, boasting. Why, you?

I lived in a rough country, associated with rough men, their vicious language. but seldom used a strong word myself. But as I stood over that monster, utterly hating the beastly thing, all the vile oaths and prickly language of the countryside, no doubt buried in some unused selling my brain,

spilled from my tongue upon him. When I lashed him as fiercely as I was able, I cried. Why didn't you come at me? Didn't you hear what I called you, you beast? Or I'd like to have a go at you, I shouted, drawing my gun. Ah, sit down, he jeered, waving his rattling hand at me. You haven't heard anything yet.

Let me finish. Well, she got back to the farm some way or another. And something over a year later, I wandered into this country again. I never could explain just why I came back. It was not altogether to see the girl. Her father was a little bit of a man, and I'd be able. began to remember what a meek and weak sheep he was. I got it into my head that it'd be fun to go back to his farm and rub it in.

And so I came. The father was trying out a new corn planter, right at the back door when I ran to the house and walked towards him. And then I saw, at once, that I had made a mistake. When he put his eyes on me, his face went white and hard. He came down from the seat of that machine like a flash. and took hurried steps in the direction of a double-barrel gun leaning against the woodshed. They were always troubled with hawks and kept a gun handy. There was an axe nearer to me than the gun was to him.

I had to work fast, but I made it all right. I grabbed that axe, jumped at him as he reached with the gun, and swung once. His wife and the girl too saw it. Then I turned and ran. The gaunt brute before us slowly crossed one groaning knee above the other. We were all sitting again now. The perspiration rolled down my face. I heard my gun trained upon him, and, though I now believed he was totally mad,

because of a certain ring of truth in that empty voice, I still sat fascinated. I looked at Seth. His jaw was hanging loose, his eyes bulging. Hammersley's mouth was set in a tight, clenched line, his eyes like fire in his blue drawn face. I couldn't see the others. The telephone called me, continued our ghastly story-time. In no time at all, I was convicted and the date set with a hanging. When my time was pretty close, a doctoral scientist fellow came to see me and said,

Blacknet, you're slated to dark. How much will you sell me your body for? If he didn't say it in that way, he meant just that. I said, nothing. No one to leave money to. What do you want with my body? And he told me, I believe I can bring you back to life and health,

provided they don't snap your neck when they drop you. You're one of those guys, are you? I said then. All right. up to it. If you can do it, I'll be much obliged. Then I can go back to that farm and do a little more axe-swinging. Again came his horrible chuckle, and again I mopped my brow. So we made our plans. He went on, pleased with our discomfiture and our despising of him. Next day some chap came to see me, pretending he was my brother.

I carried out my part of it by cursing at him, and then begging him to give me a decent burial. So we went away and, I suppose, received permission to get me right after I was cut down. There was a fence built around the scaffold they had ready for me, and the party I was about to fling. And they had some militia there too. Oh, the crowd seemed quiet enough till they let me out. their buzzing sounded like a hive of bees getting all stirred up, then a few loud voices

and then shouts. Some rocks came flying at me after that. It all looked to me as though the hanging would not be so gentle a party after all. I tell you I was afraid. I wished it was over. The mob pushed against the fence and flattened it out, coming over it like waves over a beach. The soldiers fired into the air, but still they came. And I, oh, I ran up onto the scaffold. It was safer there. As he said this, he chuckled loudly. Oh, I'll bet.

He laughed. That's the first time the guy ever ran into the noose for the safety of it. The mob came out into the foot of the scaffold, though. From where they seemed satisfied to see the law take his course. The sheriff was nervous, so cut up that he only made a fling at tying my ankles, just dropped a rope around my wrists. He was like me. He wanted to get it over, and the crowd would go on its way. And he put the rope around my neck, stepped back and shot the trap. No time for a prayer, or for me to laugh at the offer. Or a last word or anything. I thought the floor give, felt myself, shot.

through, smack, my weights on the end of the rope hit me behind the ears like a mallet. Then everything went black. Of course, it would have been just my luck to get a broken neck out of it and give the scientists no chance to revive me. But after a second or two or a minute, it could have been an hour. The blackness went away enough to allow me to know I was hanging on the end of the rope, kicking, fighting, choking, choking, to death. My tongue swelled, my face and head and heart and bodies seemed ready to burst. Slowly I went into a deep mist that I knew then was the mist. Then I was off, floating in the air over the heads of the crowd, watching my own hanging. I saw them give that slowly swinging carcass on the end of its

rope time enough to thoroughly die. Then, from my aerial view, unseen watching place. So he cut it, me, down. They tried the pulse of the body that had been mine. They examined my staring eyes, and I heard them pronounce me dead. They're fools. I'd known I was dead for a minute or two by that time. How good my spirit have gone from the shell and be out floating around over their heads? He paused here as he asked his question. His head, too, turning on its dry and creaking neck to include us all in his query. But none of us spoke.

We were all dreaming this, of course. Or we were mad, he thought. In just a short while, went on the skeleton. My brother came driving slowly in for my body. With no special hurry, he loaded me onto his little truck and drove easily away. The once glare of the crowd, he pushed his foot down on the gas, in five more minutes with me hovering all the while

alongside of him floating along as I had been a bird all my life we turned into the driveway of a summer home the science guy met him he carried me into the house into a fine fitted laboratory

my dad body was placed on a table a huge knife ripped my clothes from me quickly the loads from ten or a dozen hypodermic syringes were shot into different parts of my naked body. Then it was carried across the room to what looked like a large glass bottle or vase with an opening in the top. Through this door I was lowered, my body being held upright by straps in there for that purpose. The door to the opening was then placed in

position, and by means of an acetylene torch and some easily melting glass, the door was sealed tight. So there my body, there it stood my poor old body, ready for the experiment to bring it back to life. As my new cell floated around above the scientist and his helper, I smiled to myself, for I was sure the experiment would prove a failure, even though I now knew that the sheriff's haste had kept him from placing the rope right at my throat. And it saved me a broken neck. I was dead. All that was left of me now was my spirit, or my soul. The lad was swimming, floating about above their heads, with not an inclination in the world to have a thing to do with the husk of the man I could clearly see through the glass of the bell.

They turned on a huge battery of ultraviolet rays and then, continued the hollow droning of the man who had been in hand, which, as the scientist had explained to me, me while in prison, acting upon the contents of the syringes, by that time scattered through my whole body, was to renew the spark of life within the dead thing hanging there. Through a tube and by means of a valve entering the glass vase in the top, the scientists then admitted a dense white gas, so thick it was that in a moment or two my body's transparent coughing and appeared to be full of a liquid as white as milk. Electricity then revolved my cage around

so that my body was ensured to complete and even exposure to the rays of the green and violet lamps. While all this silly stuff was going on, around and around the laboratory I floated, confident of the complete failure of the whole thing, yet determined to see it through if no other reason than to see the discomfort

to and disappointment that these men were sure to experience. You see, I was already looking back upon earthly mortals as being inferior, and now as I waited for this proof, I was all the while fighting off a new urge to be going elsewhere. Something was calling me, beckoning me to be coming into the full spirit world, but I wanted to see this wise earth guy fail. For a little while, conditions stayed the same within my groves. So thick was the liquor gas in there at first that I could see nothing. Then it began to clear, and I saw to my surprise that the milky gas was disappearing because

it was being forced in by the rays from the lights and through the paws into the body itself, as I my form was sucking it in like a sponge. The scientist and his helper were tense and taught with excitement, and suddenly my comfortable feeling left me. Until then it seemed so smooth and velvety and peaceful, drifting around over their heads as though lying on a soft fleecy cloud. Now I felt a sudden squeezing of my spirit body. And then, I was in agony. Before I knew what I was doing, my spirit was clinging to the outside of that twisting glass bell, clawing to get into the body that was coming back to life. The glass now was perfectly clear of the gas, though as yet there was no sign of life from the body inside,

to hint that the scientists might be successful, but I knew it, for I thought desperately to break in through the glass to get back into my discarded shell of a body again. I almost get in or die a worse death than I had before. Then my sharper eyes noted a slight shiver passing over the white thing before me. The scientist must have seen it too, for in the next second he sprang forward with a choking cry of delights. Then the lolling head inside lifted a bit. I, still desperately clinging with my spirit hands to the outside, and all the time growing weaker and weaker,

I saw the breast of my body rise and fall. The assistant picked up a heavy steel hammer and stood ready to crash open the glass at the right moment. And then my once dead eyes opened in there to look around while I, clinging and gasping outside, just as I had on the scaffold, went into a deeper, darker blackness than ever. Just before my spirit and life died utterly, I saw the eyes of my body realized completely what was going on. And then, from the inside now, I saw the scientists give the signal that caused the assistant to crash away the glass shell with one blow of his hammer. I reached in from me then, and I fainted.

When I came back to consciousness, I was being carefully, slowly revived, and nursed back to life by oxygen and a pull motor. The terrible creature telling us this tale paused again to look around. My knees were weak, my clothes wet with sweat. Is that all? I asked in a piping, strange voice. half sarcastic, half unbelieving, and wholly spellbound. Just about, he answered. But what do you expect?

I left my friend the scientist at once, even though he did hate to see me go. It had been all right while he was so keen on the experiment himself, and while he only half believed his ability to bring me back. Now that he'd done it, he kind of worried him to think what sort of a man he was turning loose on the world again. I could see how he was figuring and because I had no idea of letting him try another experiment on me

perhaps of putting me away again while I beat it in a hurry and that was five years ago for five years I've lived with only just part of me here whatever it was trying to get back into that glass just before my body came to life my spirit I've been calling it Well, I've been without.

He never did get back. You see, the scientist brought me back inside a shell that kept my spirit out. And that's why I'm the skeleton you see before you. Something vital is missing. He stood up then, cracking and creaking before us, buttoning his loose coat about his angular body. Well, boys, he asked lightly. What do you think of?

I think you're a liar, a damn liar, I cried. And now if you don't want me to fill you full of lead, get the hell out of here, get out now. If I have to do it to you, there's no scientist this time to bring you back. When you go out, you'll stay out. Don't worry, he grimaced back to me, waving a mass of bones that should have been a hand contemptuously at me. I'm going. I'm headed for shelter. He then stalled the length of the floor and shut the door behind it.

The beast had gone. I'm a dirty liar, I cried. I wish I'd had an excuse to kill him. Just think of that being loose, will you? A brute who would think up such a yard. Of course it's all absurd, all crazy, all a lie. No, it's not a lie. I turned to see who'd spoken.

Hammersley's voice was so unfamiliar, and now so torn that I could not have thought he'd spoken, had he not been looking right at me, his glittering eyes challenging my assertion. Would wonders never cease, I ask myself? First this outrageous ya, now Hamasley, the Sphinx expressing an opinion, looking for an argument. Of course it must just be that he was susceptible, and his bruceousy, pruding brain had been turned a bit by the evening we'd just experienced. Well, Hammersley, you don't believe it? I asked. I not only believe it, Jerry, but now it's my turn to say, as he did, that I know it.

Jerry, old friend, he went on. That devil told the truth. He was hand. He was brought back to life, and Jerry, I was that scientist. Whoa. I fell back to the box again. My knees gave way under me. And then I heard Hammersley talking to himself. Five years it's been, he muttered. Five years since I turned him loose again.

Five years of agony for me, wondering what new devilish crimes he was perpetrating, wondering when he'd return to that little farm to swing his axe again. Five years. Five years. He came over to me, without a word of explanation, or to ask my permission, he reached his hand into my pocket and drew out my revolver, and I did not protest. Selly was headed for Shelton, he went on Hammersley's spoken thoughts.

By I slip across the ice I can intercept him of Black's woods. Then buttoning his coat closely, he followed the stranger out into the night. I was glad the moon had come up for my walk home. Glad too when I had the door locked and propped with a chair behind me. I'm dressed in the dark, not wanting any grisly sunken-eyed monster to be looking in through the window at me. For maybe, so I thought, maybe he was after all not headed for Shelton, but perhaps planning on another of his ghastly tricks. In the morning we knew he had been going toward Shelton.

Scientists, doctors, and learned men of all descriptions, came out to our village to see the thing the paper said Sy Waters had stumbled upon went on his way to the creamery that next morning. It was a skeleton, they said, only that it had a dry skin all over it, a mummy. Could not have been considered capable of containing life, only that the snow around it was slightly blotched with a pale smear that proved to be blood, that had oozed out from the six bullet holes in the horrid chest. They never did solve it. I were five of us in the store that night, five of us who know.

Hammersley did what we all wanted to do. Of course, his name is not really Hammersley, but it's as good a pseudonym as any other. He is black-whiskered, though, and he's still very much of a Sphinx, but he'll never have to answer for having killed the man he once brought back to life. Oh no, Hammersley's secret will go into another five graves besides his own.

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 bye.