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 ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE

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 VOL. II, No. 1 CONTENTS APRIL, 1930

 COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSOLOWSKI

 _Painted in Water-colors from a Scene in "Monsters of Moyen. "_

 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD THOMAS H. KNIGHT 9

 _As Jerry's Eyes Fell on the Creature's Head, He Shuddered--for the Face Was Nothing but Bone, with Dull-brown Skin Stretched Taut over It. A Skeleton That Was Alive!_

 MONSTERS OF MOYEN ARTHUR J. BURKS 18

 _"The Western World Shall be Next!" Was the Dread Ultimatum of the Half-monster, Half-god Moyen. _

 VAMPIRES OF VENUS ANTHONY PELCHER 47

 _Leslie Larner, an Entomologist Borrowed from the Earth, Pits Himself Against the Night-flying Vampires That Are Ravaging the Inhabitants of Venus. _

 BRIGANDS OF THE MOON RAY CUMMINGS 60

 _Out of Awful Space Tumbled the Space-ship Planetara Towards the Moon, Her Officers Dead, With Bandits at Her Helm--and the Controls Out of Order!_

 THE SOUL SNATCHER TOM CURRY 101

 _From Twenty Miles Away Stabbed the "Atom-filtering" Rays to Allen Baker in His Cell in the Death House. _

 THE RAY OF MADNESS CAPTAIN S. P. MEEK 112

 _Dr. Bird Uncovers a Dastardly Plot, Amazing in its Mechanical Ingenuity, Behind the Apparently Trivial Eye Trouble of the President. _

 THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 127

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Issued monthly by Publishers' Fiscal Corporation, 80 Lafayette St. , NewYork, N. Y. W. M. Clayton, President; Nathan Goldmann, Secretary. Application for entry as second-class mail pending at the Post Office atNew York, under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as a Trade Markin the U. S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group--Men's List. Foradvertising rates address E. R. Crowe & Co. , Inc. , 25 Vanderbilt Ave. , New York; or 225 North Michigan Ave. , Chicago. 

The Man Who Was Dead

_By Thomas H. Knight_

[Illustration: "_I was dead. _"]

 As Jerry's eyes fell on the creature's head, he shuddered--for the face was nothing but bone, with dull-brown skin stretched taut over it. A skeleton that was alive!

It was a wicked night, the night I met the man who had died. A bitter, heart-numbing night of weird, shrieking wind and flying snow. A fewblack hours I will never forget. 

"Well, Jerry, lad!" my mother said to me as I pushed back from the tableand started for my sheepskin coat and the lantern in the corner of theroom. "Surely you're not going out a night like this? Goodness gracious, Jerry, it's not fit!"

"Can't help it, Mother, " I replied. "Got to go. You've never seen memiss a Saturday night yet, have you now?"

"No. But then 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--"

"Ah, come now, Mother, " I argued. "They'd guy me to death if I didn'tsit in with the gang to-night. They'd chaff me because it was too coldfor me to get out. But I'm no pampered sissy, you know, and I want tosee--"

"Yes, " she retorted bitingly, "I know. You want to go and bask in thatelegant company. Our stove's just as good as the one down at that dirtyold store, " continued my persistent and anxious parent, "and it'scertainly not very flattering to think that you leave us on a night likethis to--Who'll be there, anyway?"

"Oh, the usual five or six I suppose, " I answered as I adjusted the wickof my lantern, hearing as I did the snarl and cut of the wind throughthe evergreens in the yard. 

"That black-whiskered sphinx, Hammersly, will he be there?"

"Yes, he'll be there, I'm pretty sure. "

"Hm-m!" she exclaimed, her expression now carrying all the contempt formy judgment and taste she intended it should. "Button your coat up goodaround your neck, then, if you must go to see your precious Hammerslyand the rest of them. Have you ever heard that man say anything yet?Does he speak at all, Jerry?" Then her gentle mind, not at allaccustomed to hard thoughts or contemptuous remarks, quickly changed. "Funny thing about that fellow, " she mused. "He's got something on hismind. Don't you think so, Jerry?"

"Y-es, yes I do. And I've often wondered what it could be. Hecertainly's a queer stick. Got to admit that. Always brooding. Goodfellow all right, and, for a 'sphinx' as you call him, likable. But Iwonder what is eating him?"

"What do you suppose it could be, Jerry boy?" questioned Motherfollowing me to the door, the woman of her now completely forgetting herrecent criticisms and, perhaps, the rough night her son was about tostep into. "Do you suppose the poor chap has a--a--broken heart, orsomething like that? A girl somewhere who jilted him? Or maybe he lovessomeone he has no right to!" she finished excitedly, the plates in herhand rattling. 

"Maybe it's worse than that, " I ventured. "P'r'aps--I've no right to sayit--but p'r'aps, and I've often thought it, there's a killing he wantsto forget, and can't!"

 * * * * *

I heard my mother's sharp little "Oh!" as I shut the door behind me andthe warmth and comfort of the room away. Outside it was worse than thewhistle of the wind through the trees had led me to expect. Black aspitch it was, and as cold as blazes. For the first moment or two, though, I liked the feel of the challenge of the night and the racingelements, was even a little glad I had added to the dare of theblackness the thought of Hammersly and his "killing. " But I had not gonefar before I was wishing I did not have to save my face by putting in anappearance at the store that night. 

Every Saturday night, with the cows comfortable in their warm barn, andmy own supper over, I was in the habit of taking my place on the keg orbox behind the red-hot stove in Pruett's store. To-night all the snowwas being hurled clear of the fields to block the roads full between theold, zigzag fences. The wind met me in great pushing gusts, and while itflung itself at me I would hang against it, snow to my knees, until theblow had gone along, when I could plunge forward again. I was glad whenI saw the lights of the store, glad when I was inside. 

They met me with mock applause for my pluck in facing the night, but forall their sham flattery I was pleased I had come, proud, I must admit, that I had been able to plough my heavy way through the drifts to reachthem. I saw at a glance that my friends were all there, and I saw toothat there was a strange man present. 

 * * * * *

A very tall man he was, gaunt and awkward as he leaned into the angle ofthe two counters, his back to a dusty show-case. He attracted myattention at once. Not merely because he appeared so long and pointedand skinny, but because, of all ridiculous things in that frozencountry, he wore a hard derby hat! If he had not been such a queercharacter it would have been laughable, but as it was it was--creepy. For the man beneath that hard hat was about as queer a looking characteras I have ever seen. I supposed he was a visitor at the store, or afriend of one of my friends, and that in a little while I would beintroduced. But I was not. 

I took my place in behind the stove, feeling at once, though I am farfrom being unsociable usually, that the man was an intruder and wouldspoil the evening. But despite his cold, dampening presence we were soonat it, hammer and tongs, discussing the things that are discussed behindhospitable stoves in country stores on bad nights. But I could neverlose sight of the fact that the stranger standing there, silent as thegrave, was, to say the least, a queer one. Before long I was sure he wasno friend or guest of anyone there, and that he not only cast a pallover me but over all of us. I did not like it, nor did I like him. Perhaps it would have been just as well after all, I thought, had Iheeded my mother and stayed home. 

Jed Counsell was the one who, innocently enough, started the thing thatchanged the evening, that had begun so badly, into a nightmare. 

"Jerry, " he said, leaning across to me, "thinkin' of you s'afternoon. Readin' an article about reincarnation. Remember we were arguin' it lastweek? Well, this guy, whoever he was I've forgot, believes in it. Saysit's so. That people _do_ come back. " With this opening shot Jed satback to await my answer. I liked these arguments and I liked to bear myshare in them, but now, instead of immediately answering the challenge, I looked around to see if any other of our circle were going to answerJed. Then, deciding it was up to me, I shrugged off the strange feelingthe man in the corner had cast over me, and prepared to view myopinions. 

"That's just that fellow's belief, Jed, " I said. "And just as he's gothis so have I mine. And on this subject at least I claim my opinion isas good as anybody's. " I was just getting nicely started, and a littleforgetting my distaste for the man in the corner, when the fellowhimself interrupted. He left his leaning place, and came creaking acrossthe floor to our circle around the store. I say he came "creaking" foras he came he did creak. "Shoes, " I naturally, almost unconsciouslydecided, though the crazy notion was in my mind that the cracking Iheard 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 lyingacross a nail keg and an old chair. Only from the corner of my eye did Isee his movement, being friendly enough, despite my dislike, not toallow too marked notice of his attempt to be sociable seem inhospitableon my part. I was about to start again with my argument when SethSpears, sitting closest to the newcomer, deliberately got up from thebench and went to the counter, telling Pruett as he went that he had tohave some sugar. It was all a farce, a pretext, I knew. I've known Sethfor years and had never known him before to take upon himself the buyingfor his wife's kitchen. Seth simply would not sit beside the man. 

 * * * * *

At that I could keep my eyes from the stranger no longer, and the nextmoment I felt my heart turn over within me, then lie still. I have seen"walking skeletons" in circuses, but never such a man as the one who wasthen sitting at my right hand. Those side-show men were just lean incomparison to the fellow who had invaded our Saturday night club. Histhighs and his legs and his knees, sticking sharply into his trousers, looked like pieces of inch board. His shoulders and his chest seemed asflat and as sharp as his legs. The sight of the man shocked me. I sprangto my feet thoroughly frightened. I could not 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 withthe rest of him. 

In a moment or two, realizing my childishness, I had fought down my fearand, pretending that a scorching of my leg had caused my hurriedmovement, I sat down again. None of the others said a word, each waitingfor me to continue and to break the embarrassing silence. Hammersly, black-whiskered, the "sphinx" as my mother had called him, watched meclosely. Hating myself not a little bit for actually being the sissy Ihad boasted I was not, I spoke hurriedly, loudly, to cover my confusion. 

"No sir, Jed!" I said, taking up my argument. "When a man's dead, he'sdead! There's no bringing him back like that highbrow claimed. The oldheart may be only hitting about once in every hundred times, and if theycatch it right at the last stroke they may bring it back then, but onceshe's stopped, Jed, she's stopped for good. Once the pulse has gone, andlife has flickered out, it's out. And it doesn't come back in any format all, not in this world!"

I was glad when I had said it, thereby asserting myself and downing myfoolish fear of the man whose eyes I felt burning into me. I did notturn to look at him but all the while I felt his gimlety eyes digginginto my brain. 

Then he spoke. And though he sat right next to me his voice sounded likea moan from afar off. It was the first time we had heard this thing thatonce may have been a voice and that now sounded like a groan from aclosely nailed coffin. He reached a hand toward my knee to enforce hiswords, but I jerked away. 

"So you don't believe a man can come back from the grave, eh?" hegrated. "Believe that once a man's heart is stilled it's stopped forgood, eh? Well, you're all wrong, sonny. All wrong! You believe thesethings. I _know_ them!"

 * * * * *

His interference, his condescension, his whole hatefulness angered me. Icould now no longer control my feeling. "Oh! You _know_, do you?" Isneered. "On such a subject as this you're entitled to _know_, are you?Don't make me laugh!" I finished insultingly. I was aroused. And I'm abig fellow, with no reason to fear ordinary men. 

"Yes, I know!" came back his echoing, scratching voice. 

"How do you know? Maybe you've been--?"

"Yes, I have!" he answered, his voice breaking to a squeak. "Take a goodlook at me, gentlemen. A good look. " He knew now that he held the centerof the stage, that the moment was his. Slowly he raised an arm to removethat ridiculous hat. Again I jumped to my feet. For as his coat sleeveslipped down his forearm I saw nothing but bone supporting his hand. Andthe hand that then bared his head was a skeleton hand! Slowly the hatwas lifted, but as quickly as light six able-bodied men were on theirfeet and half way to the door before we realized the cowardliness of it. We forced ourselves back inside the store very slowly, all of us ratherashamed of our ridiculous and childlike fear. 

But it was all enough to make the blood curdle, with that live, deadthing sitting there by our fire. His face and skull were nothing butbone, the eyes deeply sunk into their sockets, the dull-brown skin likeparchment in its tautness, drawn and shriveled down onto the nose andjaw. There were no cheeks. Just hollows. The mouth was a sharp slitbeneath the flat nose. He was hideous. 

"Come back and I'll tell you my yarn, " he mocked, the slit that was hismouth opening a little to show us the empty, blackened gums. "I've beendead once, " he went on, getting a lot of satisfaction from the weirdnessof the lie and from our fear, "and _I_ came back. Come and sit down andI'll explain why I'm this living skeleton. "

 * * * * *

We came back slowly, and as I did I slipped my hand into my outsidepocket where I had a revolver. I put my finger in on the trigger and gotready to use the vicious little thing. I was on edge and torn to piecescompletely by the sight of the man, and I doubt not that had he made amove towards me my frayed nerves would have plugged him full of lead. Ieyed my friends. They were in no better way than was I. Fright andhorror stood on each face. Hammersly was worst. His hands weretwitching, his eyes were like bright glass, his face bleached and drawn. 

"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 pleasurewherever I could. Maybe you'll call me selfish and greedy, but I alwaysused to believe that a man only passed this way once. Just like youbelieve, " he nodded to me, his neck muscles and jaws creaking. "Sixyears ago I came up into this country and got a job on a farm, " he wenton, settling into his story. "Just an ordinary job. But I liked itbecause the farmer had a pretty little daughter of about sixteen orseventeen and as easy as could be. You may not believe it, but you canstill 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. That I was rich back in the city, with a fine home and everything. Shebelieved me. Little fool!" He chuckled as he said it, and my anger, mounting with his every devilish word, made the finger on the trigger inmy 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 forit. " His dry jaw bones clanked and chattered as if he enjoyed thebeastly 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 dreaming. 

"We slipped away one night, " continued the beast. "Went to the city. Toa punk hotel. For three weeks we stayed there. Then one morning I toldher I was going out for a shave. I was. I got the shave. But I hadn'tthought it worth while to tell her I wouldn't be back. Well, she gotback to the farm some way, though I don't know--"

 * * * * *

"What!" I shouted, springing before him. "What! You mean you left herthere! After you'd taken her, you left her! And here you sit crowingover it! Gloating! Boasting! Why you--!" I lived in a rough country. Associated with rough men, heard their vicious language, but seldom useda strong word myself. But as I stood over that monster, utterly hatingthe beastly thing, all the vile oaths and prickly language of thecountryside, no doubt buried in some unused cell in my brain, spilledfrom my tongue upon him. When I had lashed him as fiercely as I was ableI cried: "Why don't you come at me? Didn't you hear what I called you?You beast! I'd like to riddle you!" I shouted, drawing my gun. 

"Aw, sit down!" he jeered, waving his rattling hand at me. "You ain'theard a thing yet. Let me finish. Well, she got back to the farm someway or another, and something over a year later I wandered into thiscountry again too. I never could explain just why I came back. It wasnot altogether to see the girl. Her father was a little bit of a man andI began to remember what a meek and weak sheep he was. I got it into myhead that it'd be fun to go back to his farm and rub it in. So I came. 

"Her father was trying out a new corn planter right at the back doorwhen I rounded the house and walked towards him. Then I saw, at once, that I had made a mistake. When he put his eyes on me his face wentwhite and hard. He came down from the seat of that machine like a flash, and took hurried steps in the direction of a doublebarrelled gunleaning against the woodshed. They always were troubled with hawks andkept a gun handy. But there was an ax nearer to me than the gun was tohim. I had to work fast but I made it all right. I grabbed that ax, jumped at him as he reached for the gun, and swung--once. His wife, andthe girl too, saw it. Then I turned and ran. "

 * * * * *

The gaunt brute before us slowly crossed one groaning knee above theother. We were all sitting again now. The perspiration rolled down myface. I held my gun trained upon him, and, though I now believed he wastotally mad, because of a certain ring of truth in that empty voice, Isat fascinated. I looked at Seth. His jaw was hanging loose, his eyesbulging. Hammersly's mouth was set in a tight clenched line, his eyeslike fire in his blue, drawn face. I could not see the others. 

"The telephone caught me, " continued our ghastly story-teller, "and inno time at all I was convicted and the date set for the hanging. When mytime was pretty close a doctor or scientist fellow came to see me whosaid, 'Blaggett, you're slated to die. How much will you sell me yourbody for?' If he didn't say it that way he meant just that. And I said, 'Nothing. I've 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. ' 'Oh, you're oneof _those_ guys, are you?' I said then. 'All right, hop to it. If youcan do it I'll be much obliged. Then I can go back on that farm and do alittle more ax swinging!'" Again came his horrible chuckle, again Imopped my brow. 

"So we made our plans, " he went on, pleased with our discomfiture andour despising of him. "Next day some chap came to see me, pretending hewas my brother. And I carried out my part of it by cursing him at firstand then begging him to give me decent burial. So he went away, and, Isuppose, received permission to get me right after I was cut down. 

"There was a fence built around the scaffold they had ready for me andthe party I was about to fling, and they had some militia there, too. The crowd seemed quiet enough till they led me out. Then their buzzingsounded like a hive of bees getting all stirred up. Then a few loudvoices, then shouts. Some rocks came flying at me after that, and itlooked to me as though the hanging would not be so gentle a party afterall. I tell you I was afraid. I wished it was over. 

 * * * * *

"The mob pushed against the fence and flattened it out, coming over itlike waves over a beach. The soldiers fired into the air, but still theycame, and I, I ran--up, onto the scaffold. It was safer!" As he saidthis he chuckled loudly. "I'll bet, " he laughed, "that's the first timea guy ever ran into the noose for the safety of it! The mob came only tothe foot of the scaffold though, from where they seemed satisfied to seethe law take its course. The sheriff was nervous. So cut up that he onlymade 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 on its way. Thenhe put the rope around my neck, stepped back and shot the trap. Zamm! Notime for a prayer--or for me to laugh at the offer!--or a last word oranything. 

"I felt the floor give, felt myself shoot through. Smack! My weight onthe end of the rope hit me behind the ears like a mallet. Everythingwent black. Of course it would have been just my luck to get a brokenneck out of it and give the scientist no chance to revive me. But aftera second or two, or a minute, or it could have been an hour, theblackness went away enough to allow me to know I was hanging on the endof the rope, kicking, fighting, choking to death. My tongue swelled, myface and head and heart and body seemed ready to burst. Slowly I wentinto a deep mist that I knew then was _the_ mist, then--then--I was offfloating in the air over the heads of the crowd, watching my ownhanging!

"I saw them give that slowly swinging carcass on the end of its ropetime enough to thoroughly die, then, from my aerial, unseen watchingplace, I saw them cut it--me--down. They tried the pulse of the bodythat had been mine, they examined my staring eyes. Then I heard thempronounce me dead. The fools! I had known I was dead for a minute or twoby that time, else how could my spirit have been gone from the shell andbe out floating around over their heads?"

 * * * * *

He paused here as he asked his question, his head turning on its dry andcreaking neck to include us all in his query. But none of us spoke. Wewere dreaming it all, of course, or were mad, we thought. 

"In just a short while, " went on the skeleton, "my 'brother' camedriving slowly in for my body. With no special hurry he loaded me ontohis little truck and drove easily away. But once clear of the crowd hepushed his foot down on the gas and in five more minutes--with mehovering all the while alongside of him, mind you--floating along asthough I had been a bird all my life--we turned into the driveway of asummer home. The scientific guy met him. They carried me into the house, into a fine-fitted laboratory. My dead body was placed on a table, ahuge knife ripped my clothes from me. 

"Quickly the loads from ten or a dozen hypodermic syringes were shotinto different parts of my naked body. Then it was carried across theroom to what looked like a large glass bottle, or vase, with an openingin the top. Through this door I was lowered, my body being held uprightby straps in there for that purpose. The door to the opening was thenplaced in position, and by means of an acetylene torch and some easilymelting glass, the door was sealed tight. 

"So there stood my poor old body. Ready for the experiment to bring itback to life. And as my new self floated around above the scientist andhis helper I smiled to myself, for I was sure the experiment would provea failure, even though I now knew that the sheriff's haste had kept himfrom placing the rope right at my throat and had saved me a broken neck. I was dead. All that was left of me now was my spirit, or soul. And thatwas swimming and floating about above their heads with not aninclination in the world to have a thing to do with the husk of the manI could clearly see through the glass of the bell. 

 * * * * *

"They turned on a huge battery of ultra-violet rays then, " continued thehollow droning of the man who had been hanged, "which, as the scientisthad explained to me while in prison, acting upon the contents of thesyringes, by that time scattered through my whole body, was to renew thespark of life within the dead thing hanging there. Through a tube, andby means of a valve entering the glass vase in the top, the scientistthen admitted a dense white gas. So thick was it that in a moment or twomy body's transparent coffin appeared to be full of a liquid as white asmilk. Electricity then revolved my cage around so that my body wasinsured a complete and even exposure to the rays of the green and violetlamps. And while all this silly stuff was going on, around and aroundthe laboratory I floated, confident of the complete failure of the wholething, yet determined to see it through if for no other reason than tosee the discomfiture and disappointment that this mere man was bound toexperience. You see, I was already looking back upon earthly mortals asbeing inferior, and now as I waited for this proof I was all the whilefighting 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 tosee this wise earth guy fail. 

"For a little while conditions stayed the same within that glass. Sothick was the liquid 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 wasdisappearing because it was being forced in by the rays from the lightsin through the pores into the body itself. As though my form was suckingit in like a sponge. The scientist and his helper were tense and tautwith excitement. And suddenly my comfortable feeling left me. Until thenit had seemed so smooth and velvety and peaceful drifting around overtheir heads, as though lying on a soft, fleecy cloud. But now I felt asudden squeezing of my spirit body. Then I was in an agony. Before Iknew what I was doing my spirit was clinging to the outside of thattwisting glass bell, clawing to get into the body that was coming backto life! The glass now was perfectly clear of the gas, though as yetthere was no sign of life in the body inside to hint to the scientistthat he was to be successful. But I knew it. For I fought desperately tobreak in through the glass to get back into my discarded shell of a bodyagain, knowing I must get in or die a worse death than I had before. 

"Then my sharper eyes noted a slight shiver passing over the white thingbefore me, and the scientist must have seen it in the next second, forhe sprang forward with a choking cry of delight. Then the lolling headinside lifted a bit. I--still desperately clinging with my spirit handsto the outside, and all the time growing weaker and weaker--I saw thebreast of my body rise and fall. The assistant picked up a heavy steelhammer and stood ready to crash open the glass at the right moment. Thenmy once dead eyes opened in there to look around, while I, clinging andgasping outside, just as I had on the scaffold, went into a deeper, darker blackness than ever. Just before my spirit life died utterly Isaw the eyes of my body realize completely what was going on, then--fromthe inside now--I saw the scientist give the signal that caused theassistant to crash away the glass shell with one blow of his hammer. 

"They reached in for me then, and I fainted. When I came back toconsciousness I was being carefully, slowly revived, and nursed back tolife by oxygen and a pulmotor. "

 * * * * *

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, halfunbelieving, and wholly spellbound. 

"Just about, " he answered. "But what do you expect? I left my friend thescientist at once, even though he did hate to see me go. It had been allright while he was so keen on the experiment himself and while he onlyhalf believed his ability to bring me back. But now that he'd done it, it kinda worried him to think what sort of a man he was turning loose ofthe world again. I could see how he was figuring, and because I had noidea of letting him try another experiment on me, p'r'aps of putting meaway again, I beat it in a hurry. 

"That was five years ago. For five years I've lived with only just partof me here. Whatever it was trying to get back into that glass justbefore my body came to life--my spirit, I've been calling it--I've beenwithout. It never did get back. You see, the scientist brought me backinside a shell that kept my spirit out. That's why I'm the skeleton yousee I am. Something vital is missing. "

He stood up cracking and creaking before us, buttoning his loose coatabout his angular body. "Well, boys, " he asked lightly, "what do youthink of that?"

"I think you're a liar! A damn liar!" I cried. "And now, if you don'twant me to fill you full of lead, get out of here and get out now! If Ihave 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 thatshould have been a hand contemptuously at me, "I'm going. I'm headed forShelton. " He stalked the length of the floor and shut the door behindhim. The beast had gone. 

"The dirty liar!" I cried. "I wish--yes--I wish I had an excuse to killhim. Just think of that being loose, will you? A brute who would thinkup such a yarn! Of course it's all absurd. All crazy. All a lie. "

"No. It's not a lie. "

 * * * * *

I turned to see who had spoken. Hammersly's voice was so unfamiliar andnow so torn in addition that I could not have thought he had spoken, hadhe not been looking right at me, his glittering eyes challenging myassertion. Would wonders never cease? I asked myself. First thisoutrageous yarn, now Hammersly, the "sphinx, " expressing an opinion, looking for an argument! Of course it must be that his susceptible andbrooding brain had been turned a bit by the evening we had justexperienced. 

"Why Hammersly! You don't believe it?" I asked. 

"I not only believe it, Jerry, but now it's my turn to say, as he did, I_know_ it! Jerry, old friend, " he went on, "that devil told the truth. He was hanged. He was brought back to life; and Jerry--I was thatscientist!"

Whew! I fell back to a box again. My knees seemed to forsake me. Then Iheard Hammersly talking to himself. 

"Five years it's been, " he muttered. "Five years since I turned himloose again. Five years of agony for me, wondering what new devilishcrimes he was perpetrating, wondering when he would return to thatlittle farm to swing his ax again. Five years--five years. "

He came over to me, and without a word of explanation or to ask mypermission he reached his hand into my pocket and drew out my revolver, and I did not protest. 

"He said he was headed for Shelton, " went on Hammersly's spokenthoughts. "If I slip across the ice I can intercept him at Black'swoods. " Buttoning his coat closely, he followed the stranger out intothe night. 

 * * * * *

I was glad the moon had come up for my walk home, glad too when I hadthe door locked and propped with a chair behind me. I undressed in thedark, not wanting any grisly, sunken-eyed monster to be looking inthrough the window at me. For maybe, so I thought, maybe he was afterall not headed for Shelton, but perhaps planning on another of hisghastly tricks. 

But in the morning we knew he had been going toward Shelton. Scientists, doctors, and learned men of all descriptions came out to our village tosee the thing the papers said Si Waters had stumbled upon when on hisway to the creamery that next morning. 

It was a skeleton, they said, only that it had a dry skin all over it. Amummy. Could not have been considered capable of containing life onlythat the snow around it was lightly blotched with a pale smear thatproved to be blood, that had oozed out from the six bullet holes in thehorrid chest. They never did solve it. 

There were five of us in the store that night. Five of us who know. Hammersly did what we all wanted to do. Of course his name is not reallyHammersly, but it has done here as well as another. He isblack-whiskered though, and he is still very much of a sphinx, but he'llnever have to answer for having killed the man he once brought back tolife. Hammersly's secret will go into five other graves besides hisown. 

Monsters of Moyen

_By Arthur J. Burks_

[Illustration: "_Now, " said Kleig hoarsely, "watch closely, forGod's sake!_"]

 "The Western World shall be next!" was the dread ultimatum of the half-monster, half-god Moyen!

_Foreword_

In 1935 the mighty genius of Moyen gripped the Eastern world like a handof steel. In a matter of months he had welded the Orient into anunbeatable war-machine. He had, through the sheer magnetism of a strangepersonality, carried the Eastern world with him on his march to conquestof the earth, and men followed him with blind faith as men in the pasthave followed the banners of the Thaumaturgists. 

A strange name, to the sound of which none could assign nationality. Some said his father was a Russian refugee, his mother a Mongol woman. Some said he was the son of a Caucasian woman lost in the Gobi andrescued by a mad lama of Tibet, who became father of Moyen. Some saidthat his mother was a goddess, his father a fiend out of hell. 

[Illustration]

But this all men knew about him: that he combined within himself thecourage of a Hannibal, the military genius of a Napoleon, the ideals ofa Sun Yat Sen; and that he had sworn to himself he would never restuntil the earth was peopled by a single nation, with Moyen himself inthe seat of the mighty ruler. 

Madagascar was the seat of his government, from which he looked acrossinto United Africa, the first to join his confederacy. The Orient was adependency, even to that forbidden land of the Goloks, where outlanderssometimes went, but whence they never returned--and to the wild Golokshe was a god whose will was absolute, to render obedience to whom was aprivilege accorded only to the Chosen. 

 * * * * *

In a short year his confederacy had brought under his might the millionsof Asia, which he had welded into a mighty machine for further conquest. 

And because the Americas saw the handwriting on the wall, they sent outto see the man Moyen, with orders to penetrate to his very side, as aspy, their most trusted Secret Agent--Prester Kleig. 

Only the ignorant believed that Moyen was mad. The military anddiplomatic geniuses of the world recognized his genius, and resented it. 

But Prester Kleig, of the Secret Service of the Americas, one of the_few_ men whose headquarters were in the Secret Room in Washington, hadreached Moyen. 

Now he was coming home. 

He came home to tell his people what Moyen was planning, and to admitthat his investigations had been hampered at every turn by the uncannygenius of Moyen. Military plans had been guarded with unbelievablesecrecy. War machines he knew to exist, yet had seen only those commonto all the armies of the world. 

And now, twenty-four hours out of New York City, aboard the _S. S. Stellar_, Prester Kleig was literally willing the steamer to greaterspeed--and in far Madagascar the strange man called Moyen had given theultimatum:

"The Western World shall be next!"

CHAPTER I

_The Hand of Moyen. _

"Who is that man?" asked a young lady passenger of the steward, with theimperious inflection which tells of riches able to force obedience frommenials who labor for hire. 

She pointed a bejeweled finger at the slender, soldierly figure whichstood in the prow of the liner, like a figurehead, peering into thestorm under the vessel's forefoot. 

"That gentleman, milady?" repeated the steward obsequiously. "That isPrester Kleig, head of the Secret Agents, Master of the Secret Room, just now returning from Madagascar, via Europe, after a visit to therealm of Moyen. "

A gasp of terror burst from the lips of the woman. Her cheeks blanched. 

"Moyen!" She almost whispered it. "Moyen! The half-god of Asia, whom mencall mad!"

"Not mad, milady. No, Moyen is not mad, save with a lust for power. Heis the conqueror of the ages, already ruling more of the earth'spopulation than any man has ever done before him--even Alexander!"

But the young lady was not listening to stewards. Wealthy young ladiesdid not, save when asked questions dealing with personal service tothemselves. Her eyes devoured the slender man who stood in the prow ofthe _Stellar_, while her lips shaped, over and over again, the dreadname which was on the lips of the people of the world:

"Moyen! Moyen!"

 * * * * *

Up in the prow, if Prester Kleig, who carried a dread secret in hisbreast, knew of the young lady's regard, he gave no sign. There weretouches of gray at his temples, though he was still under forty. He hadseen more of life, knew more of its terrors, than most men twice hisage--because he had lived harshly in service to his country. 

He was thinking of Moyen, the genius of the misshapen body, the paleeyes which reflected the fires of a Satanic soul, set deeply in themidst of the face of an angel; and wondering if he would be able toarrive in time, sorry that he had not returned home by airplane. 

He had taken the _Stellar_ only because the peacefulness of ocean linertravel would aid his thoughts, and he required time to marshal them. Liner travel was now a luxury, as all save the immensely wealthytraveled by plane across the oceans. Now Prester Kleig was sorry, forany moment, he felt, Moyen might strike. 

He turned and looked back along the deck of the _Stellar_. His eyesplayed over the trimly gowned figure of the woman who questioned thesteward, but did not really see her. And then. .. . 

"Great God!" The words were a prayer, and they burst from the lips ofPrester Kleig like an explosion. Passengers appeared from the lee oflifeboats. Officers on the bridge whirled to look at the man whoshouted. Seamen paused in their labors to stare. Aloft in thecrow's-nest the lookout lowered his eyes from scouring the horizon tostare at Prester Kleig--who was pointing. 

All eyes turned in the direction indicated. 

 * * * * *

Climbing into the sky, a mile off the starboard beam, was an airplanewith a bulbous body and queerly slanted wings. It had neither wheels norpontoons, and it traveled with unbelievable speed. It came onbullet-fast, headed directly for the side of the _Stellar_. 

"Lower the boats!" yelled Kleig. "Lower the boats! For God's sake lowerthe boats!"

For Prester Kleig, in that casual turning, had seen what none aboard the_Stellar_, even the lookout above, had seen. The airplane, which hadneither wheels nor pontoons, had risen, as Aphrodite is said to haverisen, out of the waves! He had seen the wings come out of the bulbousbody, snap backward into place, and the plane was in full flight theinstant it appeared. 

Prester Kleig had no hope that his warning would be in time, but hewould always feel better for having given it. As the captain debatedwith himself as to whether this lunatic should be confined as dangerous, the strange airplane nosed over and dived down to the sea, a hundredyards from the side of the _Stellar_. Just before it struck the water, its wings snapped forward and became part of the bulbous body of thething, the whole of which shot like a bullet into the sea. 

 * * * * *

Prester Kleig stood at the rail, peering out at the spot where the planehad plunged in with scarcely a splash, and his right hand was raised asthough he gave a final, despairing signal. 

Of all aboard the _Stellar_, he only saw that black streak which, tenfeet under water, raced like a bolt of lightning from the nose of thesubmerged but visible plane, straight as a die for the side of the_Stellar_. Just a black streak, no bigger than a small man's arm, fromthe nose of the plane to the side of the _Stellar_. 

From the crow's-nest came the startled, terrific voice of the lookout, in the beginning of a cry that must remain forever inarticulate. 

The world, in that blinding moment, seemed to rock on its foundations;to shatter itself to bits in a chaotic jumble of sound and of movement, shot through and through with lurid flames. Kleig felt himself hurledupward and outward, turned over and over endlessly. .. . 

He felt the storm-tossed waters close over him, and knew he had struck. In the moment he knew--oblivion, deep, ebon and impenetrable, blottedout knowledge. 

CHAPTER II

_The Half-Dream_

A roaring, rushing river of chaotic sound, first. Jumbled sound to whichPrester Kleig could give no adequate name. But as he tried to analyzeits meanings, he was able to differentiate between sounds, and todiscover the identity of some. 

The river of sound he decided to be the sound of a vibrational explosionof some sort--vibrational because it had that quivery quality whichcauses a feeling of uneasiness and fret, that feeling which makes oneturn and look around to find the eyes boring into one's back--yetmultiplied in its intensity an uncounted number of times. 

Other sounds which came through the chaotic river of sound were theterrified screaming of the men and women who were doomed. Lifeboats werenever lowered, for the reason that with the disintegration of the_Stellar_, everything inanimate aboard her likewise disintegrated, dropping men and women, crew and passengers, into the freezing waters ofthe Atlantic. 

Prester Kleig dropped with them, only partially unconscious after thefirst icy plunge. He knew when he floated on the surface, for he felthimself lifted and hurled by the waves. In his half-dream he saw men andwomen being carried away into wave-shrouded darkness, clawing wildly atnothingness for support, clawing at one another, locking arms, and goingdown together. 

 * * * * *

The _Stellar_, in the merest matter of seconds, had become spoil of thesea, and her crew and passengers had vanished forever from the sight ofmen. Yet Prester Kleig lived on, knew that he lived on, and that therewas an element, too strong to be disbelieved, of reality in his dream. 

There was a vibratory sense, too, as of the near activity of a noiselessmotor. Noiseless motor! Where had he last thought of those two words?With what recent catastrophe were they associated? No, he could notrecall, though he knew he should be able to do so. 

Then the sense of motion to the front was apparent--an unnumbered sense, rather than concrete feeling. Motion to front, influenced by the risingand falling motion of mountainous waves. 

So suddenly as to be a distinct shock, the wave motion ceased, thoughthe forward motion--and _upward!_--not only continued but increased. 

That airplane of the bulbous body, the queerly slanted wings. .. . 

But the glimmering of realization vanished as a sickishly sweet odorassailed his nostrils and sent its swift-moving tentacles upward to wrapthemself soothingly about his brain. But the sense of flight, unbelievably swift, was present and recognizable, though all else eludedhim. He had the impression, however, that it was intended that all savethe most vagrant, most widely differentiated, impressions eludehim--that he should acquire only half pictures, which would therefore beall the more terrible in retrospect. 

The only impressions which were real were those of motion to the front, and upward, and the sense of noiseless machinery, vibrating the whole, nearby. 

Then a distinct realization of the cessation of the sense of flying, anda return, though in lesser degree, of the rising and falling of waves. This latter sensation became less and less, though the feeling oftraveling downward continued. Prester Kleig knew that he was going downinto the sea again, down into it deeply. .. . Then that odor once more, and the elusive memory. 

Forward motion at last, in the depths, swift, forward motion, thoughPrester Kleig could not even guess at the direction. Just swift motion, and the mutter of voices, the giving of orders. .. . 

 * * * * *

Prester Kleig regained consciousness fully on the sands of the shore. Hesat up stiffly, staring out to sea. A storm was raging, and the sea wasan angry waste. No ship showed on the waters; the mad, tumbled sky aboveit was either empty of planes or they had climbed to invisibility abovethe clouds that raced and churned with the storm. 

Out of the storm, almost at Prester Kleig's feet, dropped a smallairplane. Through the window a familiar face peered at Kleig. Ahelmeted, begoggled figure opened the door and stepped out. 

"Kleig, old man, " said the flyer, "you gave me the right dope all right, but I'll swear there isn't a wireless tower within a hundred miles ofthis place! How did you manage it?"

"Kane, you're crazy, or I am, or. .. . " But Prester Kleig could not go onwith the thought which had rushed through his brain with the numbingimpact of a blow. He grasped the hand of Carlos Kane, of the DomesticService, and the yellow flimsy Kane held out to him. It read simply:

"Shipwrecked. Am ashore at--" There followed grid coordinate mapreadings. "Come at once, prepared to fly me to Washington. " It wassigned "Kleig. "

"Kane, " said Kleig, "I did not send this message!"

What more was there to be said? Horror looked out of the eyes of PresterKleig, and was reflected in those of Carlos Kane. Both men turned, peering out across the tumbled welter of waters. 

Somewhere out there, tight-locked in the gloomy archives of theAtlantic, was the secret of the message which had brought Carlos Kane toPrester Kleig--and the agency which had sent it. 

CHAPTER III

_Wings of To-morrow_

As Prester Kleig climbed into the enclosed passenger pit of themonoplane--a Mayther--his ears seemed literally to be ringing with thedrumming, mighty voice of Moyen. But now that voice, instead of merelyspeaking, rang with sardonic laughter. He had never heard the laughterof Moyen, but he could guess how it would sound. 

That airplane of the slanted wings, the bulbous, almost bulletlikefuselage, what of it? It was simple, as Kleig looked back at hismemoried glimpse of it. The submarine was a metal fish made with humanhands; the airplane aped the birds. The strange ship which had causedthe destruction of the _Stellar_, was a combination fish and bird--whichmerely aped nature a bit further, as anyone who had ever traversedtropical waters would have instantly recognized. 

But what did it portend? What ghastly terrors of Moyen roamed the deepsof the Atlantic, of the Pacific, the oceans of the world? How closewere some of these to the United States?

The pale eyes of Moyen, he was sure, were already turned toward theWest. 

 * * * * *

Prester Kleig sighed as he seated himself beside Carlos Kane. Then Kanepressed one of the myriad of buttons on the dash, and Kleig lifted hiseyes to peer through the skylight, to where that single press of abutton had set in motion the intricate machinery of the helicopter. 

A four-bladed fan lifted on a slender pedestal, sufficiently high abovethe surface of the wing for the vanes to be free of the centralpropeller. Then, automatically, the vanes became invisible, and theMayther lifted from the sandy beach as lightly, and far more straightly, than any bird. 

As the ship climbed away for the skies, and through the transparentfloor the beach and the Atlantic fell away below the ship, a sigh ofrelief escaped Kleig. This was living! Up here one was free, if only fora moment, and the swift wind of flight brushed all cobwebs from thetired human brain. He watched the slender needle of the altimeter, as itmoved around the face of the dial as steadily as the hands of a clock, around to thirty thousand, thirty-five, forty. 

Then Carlos Kane, every movement as effortless as the flight of thesilvery winged Mayther, thrust forth his hand to the dash again, pressedanother button. Instantly the propellers vanished into a blur as thevanes of the helicopter dropped down the slender staff and the vanesthemselves fitted snugly into their appointed notches atop the wing. 

 * * * * *

For a second Carlos Kane glanced at the tiny map to the right of thedash, and set his course. It was a matter of moments only, but whileKane worked, Prester Kleig studied the instruments on the dash, for ithad been months since he had flown, save for his recent half-dreamlikeexperience. There was a button which released the mechanism of thedeadly guns, fired by compressed air, all operated from the noiselessmotor, whose muzzles exactly cleared the tips of Mayther's wings, twoguns to each wing, one on the entering edge, one on the trailing edge, fitted snugly into the adamant rigging. 

Four guns which could fire to right or left, twin streams of lead, thenumber of rounds governed only by the carrying power of the Mayther. Prester Kleig knew them all: the guns in the wings, the guns which firedthrough the three propellers, and the guns set two and two in thefuselage, to right and left of the pits, which could be fixed either upor down--all by the mere pressing of buttons. It was marvelous, miraculous, yet even as Kleig told himself that this was so, he felt, deep in the heart of him, that Moyen knew all about ships like these, and regarded them as the toys of children. 

Kane touched Kleig on the shoulder, signaling, indicating that theatmosphere in the pits had been regulated to their new height, and thatthey could remove their helmets and oxygen tanks without danger. 

 * * * * *

With a sigh Prester Kleig sat back, and the two friends turned to faceeach other. 

"You certainly look done in, Kleig, " said Kane sympathetically. "Youmust have been through hell, and then some. Tell me about this Moyen;that is, if you think you care to talk about him. "

"Talk about him!" repeated Kleig. "Talk about him? It will be a relief!There has been nothing, and nobody, on my mind save Moyen for wearymonths on end. If I don't talk to someone about him, I'll go mad, if I'mnot mad already. Moyen? A monster with the face of an angel! What elsecan one say about him? A devil and a saint, a brute whose followerswould go with him into hell's fire, and sing him hosannas as they wereconsumed in agony! The greatest mob psychologist the world has everseen. He's a genius, Kane, and unless something is done, the Westernworld, all the world, is doomed to sit at the feet, listen to thecommands, of Moyen!

"He isn't an Oriental; he isn't a European; he isn't negroid or Indian;but there is something about him that makes one thing of all of these, singly and collectively. His body is twisted and grotesque, and when onelooks at his face, one feels a desire to touch him, to swear eternalfealty to him--until one looks into his pale eyes, eyes almost milky intheir paleness--and gets the merest hint of the thoughts which actuatehim. If he has a failing I did not find it. He does not drink, gamble. .. . "

"And women?" queried Kane, softly. 

 * * * * *

Kleig was madly in love with the sister of Kane, Charmion, and thisthing touched him nearest the heart, because Charmion was one of hercountry's most famous beauties, about whom Moyen must already haveheard. 

"Women?" repeated Kleig musingly, his black eyes troubled, haunted. "Iscarcely know. He has no love for women, only because he has no capacityfor any love save self-love. But when I think of him in this connectionI seem to see Moyen, grown to monster proportions, sitting on a mightythrone, with nude women groveling at his feet, bathed in tears, theirlong hair in mantles of sorrow, hiding their shamed faces! That soundswild, doesn't it? But it's the picture I get of Moyen when I think ofMoyen and of women. Many women will love him, and have, perhaps. Butwhile he has taken many, though I am only guessing here, he has given_himself_ to none. Another thing: His followers--well, he sets no limitsto the lusts of his men, requiring only that every soldier be fit forduty, with a body strong for hardship. You understand?"

Kane understood; and his face was very pale. 

"Yes, " he said, his voice almost a whisper, "I understand, and as youspeak of this man I seem to see a city in ruins, and hordes of menmarching, bloodstained men entering houses . .. From which, immediatelyafterward, come the screams of women . .. Terror-stricken women. .. . "

He shuddered and could not go on for the very horror of the vision thathad come to him. 

But Kleig stared at him as though he saw a ghost. 

"Great God, Carl!" he gasped. "The same identical picture has been in mymind, not once but a thousand times! I wonder. .. . "

Was it an omen of the future for the West?

Deep in his soul Prester Kleig fancied he could hear the sardoniclaughter of the half-god, Moyen. 

 * * * * *

A tiny bell rang inside the dash, behind the instruments. Kane had setdirection finders, had pressed the button which signaled theWashington-control Station of the National Radio, thus automaticallyindicating the exact spot above land, by grid-coordinates, where theMayther should start down for the landing. 

An hour later they landed on the flat roof of the new Capitol Building, sinking lightly to rest as a feather, nursed to a gentle landing by thewhirring vanes of the helicopter. 

Prester Kleig, surrounded by uniformed guards who tried to shield himfrom the gaze of news-gatherers crowded there on the roof-top, hurriedhim to the stairway leading into the executive chambers, and throughthese to the Secret Chamber which only a few men knew, and into whichnot even Carlos Kane could follow Prester Kleig--yet. 

But one man, one news-gatherer, had caught a glimpse of the face ofKleig, and already he raced for the radio tower of his organization, toblazon to the Western world the fact that Kleig had come back. 

CHAPTER IV

_A Nation Waits in Dread_

As Prester Kleig, looking twice his forty years because of fatigue, andalmost nameless terrors through which he had passed, went to hisrendezvous, the news-gatherer, who shall here remain nameless, raced forthe Broadcasting Tower. 

As Prester Kleig entered the Secret Room and at a signal all the manydoors behind him, along that interminable stairway, swung shut and weretightly locked, the news-gatherer raced for the microphone and gave the"priority" signal to the operator. Millions of people would not onlyhear the words of the news-gatherer, but would see him, note theexpressions which chased one another across his face. For television waslong since an accomplished, everyday fact. 

"Prester Kleig, of this government's Secret Service, has just returnedto the United Americas! Your informer has just seen him step from themonoplane of Carlos Kane, atop the Capitol Building, and repair at onceto the Secret Room, closely guarded. But I saw his face, and though heis under forty, he seems twice that. And you know now what this countryhas only guessed at before--that he has seen Moyen. Moyen the half-man, half-god, the enigma of the ages. What does Prester Kleig think of thisman? He doesn't say, for he dares not speak, yet. But your informer sawhis face, and it is old and twisted with terror! And--"

 * * * * *

That ended the discourse of the news-gatherer, and it was many hoursbefore the public really understood. For, with a new sentence but halfcompleted, the picture of the news-gatherer faded blackly off thescreens in a million homes, and his voice was blotted out by a hummingthat mounted to a terrific appalling shriek! Some terrible agency, aboutwhich people who knew their radio could only guess, had drowned out thewords of the news-gatherer, leaving the public stunned and bewildered, almost groping before a feeling of terror which was all the moreunbearable because none could give it a name. 

And the public had heard but a fraction of the truth--merely that Kleighad come back. It had been the intention of the government to deny thepublic even this knowledge, and it had; but knowledge of the denialitself was public property, which filled the hearts of men and women allthrough the Western Hemisphere with nameless dread. And over all thisabode of countless millions hovered the shadow of Moyen. 

The government tried to correct the impression which the news-gathererhad given out. 

"Prester Kleig is back, " said the radio, while the government speakertried, for the benefit of those who could see him, to smilereassuringly. "But there is nothing to cause anyone the slightestconcern. He has seen Moyen, yes, and has heard him speak, but stillthere is nothing to distress anyone, and the whole story will be givento you as soon as possible. Kleig has gone into the Secret Room, yes, but every operative of the government, when discussing businessconnected with diplomatic relations with foreign powers, is received inthe Secret Room. No cause for worry!"

 * * * * *

It was so easy to say that, and the speaker realized it, which was whyhe could but with difficulty make his smile seem reassuring. 

"Tell us the truth, and tell us quickly, " might have been the voicelesscries of those who listened and saw the face and fidgeting form of thespeaker. But the words were not spoken, because the people sensed ahovering horror, a dread catastrophe beyond the power of words toexpress--and so looked at one another in silence, their eyes wide withdread, their hearts throbbing to suffocation with nameless foreboding. 

So eyes were horror-haunted, and men walked, flew, and rode in fear andtrembling--while, down in the Secret Room, Prester Kleig and a dozen oldmen, men wise in the ways of science and invention, wise in the ways ofmen and of beasts, of Nature and the Infinite Outside, decided the fateof the Nation. 

That Secret Room was closed to every one. Not even the news-gathererscould reach it; not even the all-seeing eye of the telephotographemblazoned to the world its secrets. 

But _was_ it secret?

Perhaps Moyen, the master mobster, smiled when he heard men say so, menwho knew in their hearts that Moyen regarded other earthlings asearthlings regard children and their toys. Did the eyes of Moyen gazeeven into the depths of the Secret Room, hundreds of feet below even thedocumentary-treasure vaults of the Capitol?

 * * * * *

No one knew the answer to the question, but the radio, reporting thereturn of Kleig, had given the public a distorted vision of an embodiedfear, and in its heart the public answered "Yes!" And what had drownedout the voice of the radio-reporter?

No wonder that, for many hours, a nation waited in fear and trembling, eyes filled with dread that was nameless and absolute, for word from theSecret Room. Fear mounted and mounted as the hours passed and no wordcame. 

In that room Prester Kleig and the twelve old men, one of whom was thecountry's President, held counsel with the man who had come back. Butbefore the spoken counsel had been held, awesome and awe-inspiringpictures had flashed across the screen, invented by a third of the oldmen, from which the world held no secrets, even the secrets of Moyen. 

With this mechanism, guarded at forfeit of the lives of a score of men, the men of the Secret Room could peer into even the most secret placesof the world. The old men had peered, and had seen things which hadblanched their pale cheeks anew. And when they had finished, and theterrible pictures had faded out, a voice had spoken suddenly, like anexplosion, in the Secret Room. 

"Well, gentlemen, are you satisfied that resistance is futile?"

Just the voice; but to one man in the Secret Room, and to the otherswhen his numbing lips spoke the name, it was far more than enough. Fornot even the wisest of the great men could explain how, as they knew, having just seen him there, a man could be in Madagascar while his voicespoke aloud in the Secret Room, where even radio was barred!

The name on the lips of Prester Kleig!

"Moyen! Moyen!"

CHAPTER V

_Monsters of the Deep_

"Gentlemen, " said Prester Kleig as he entered the Secret Room, where satthe scientists and inventive geniuses of the Americas, "we haven't muchtime, and I shall waste but little of it. Moyen is ready to strike, ifhe hasn't already done so, as I believe. We will see in a matter ofseconds. Professor Maniel, we shall need, first of all, your apparatusfor returning the vibratory images of events which have transpiredwithin the last thirty-six hours. 

"I wish to show those of you who failed to see it the sinking of the_Stellar_, on which I was a passenger and, I believe, the onlysurvivor. "

Professor Maniel strangely mouse-like save for the ponderous dome of hisforehead, stepped away from the circular table without a word. He hadinvented the machine in question, and he was inordinately proud of it. Through its use he could pick up the sounds, and the pictures, of eventswhich had transpired down the past centuries, from the tinkling of thecymbals of Miriam to all the horror of the conflict men had called theGreat War, simply by drawing back from the ether, as the sounds fledoutward through space, those sounds and vibrations which he needed. 

His science was an exact one, more carefully exact even than themeasurement of the speed of light, taking into consideration thedispersion of sound and movement, and the element of time. 

The interior of the Secret Room became dark as Maniel labored with hisminute machinery. Only behind the screen on the wall in rear of thetable was there light. 

 * * * * *

The voice of Maniel began to drone as he thought aloud. 

"There is a matter of but a few minutes difference in time betweenWashington and the last recorded location of the _Stellar_. The sinkingoccurred at ten-thirty last evening you say, Kleig? Ah, yes, I have it!Watch carefully, gentlemen!"

So silent were the Secret Agents one could not even have heard thebreathing of one of them, for on the screen, misty at first, butbecoming moment by moment bolder of outline, was the face of astorm-tossed sea. The liner was slower in forming, and was slightly outof focus for a second or two. 

"Ah, " said Professor Maniel. "There it is!"

Through the sound apparatus came the roaring and moaning of a storm atsea. On the screen the _Stellar_ rose high on the waves, dropped intothe trough, while spumes of black smoke spread rearward on the watersfrom her spouting funnels. Figures were visible on her decks, figureswhich seemed carved in bronze. 

In the prow, every expression on his face plainly visible, stood PresterKleig himself, and as his picture appeared he was in the act of turning. 

"Now, " said Kleig himself, there in the Secret Room, "look off to theleft, gentlemen, a mile from the _Stellar_!"

A rustling sound as the scientists shifted in their places. 

 * * * * *

They all saw it, and a gasp burst from their lips as though at a signal. For, as the _Stellar_ seemed about to plunge off the shadowed screeninto the Secret Room, a flying thing had risen out of the sea--anairplane with a bulbous body and queerly slanting wings. 

At the same time, out of the mouth of the pictured figure of PresterKleig, clear and agonized as the tones of a bell struck in frenzy, thewords:

"Great God! Lower the boats! Lower the boats! For God's sake lower theboats!"

In the Secret Room the real Prester Kleig spoke again. 

"When the black streak leaves the nose of the plane, after it hassubmerged, Professor Maniel, " said Kleig softly, "slow your mechanism sothat we can see the whole thing in detail. "

There came a grunted affirmative from Professor Maniel. 

The nose of the pictured plane tilted over, diving down for the surfaceof the sea. 

"Now!" snapped Kleig. "Don't wait!"

Instantly the moving pictures on the screen reduced their speed, and theplane appeared to stop its sudden seaward plunge and to drop down aslightly as a feather. The wings of the thing moved forward slowly, folding into the body of the dropping plane. 

"They fold forward, " said Kleig quietly, "so that the speed of the planein the take-off will snap them _backward_ into position for flying!"

 * * * * *

No one spoke, because the explanation was so obvious. 

Slowly the airplane went down to the surface of the sea, with scarcely aplume of spindrift leaping back after she had struck. She dropped to tenfeet below the surface of the water, a hundred yards off the starboardbeam of the _Stellar_, her blunt nose pointing squarely at the side ofthe doomed liner. 

"Now, " said Kleig hoarsely, "watch closely, for God's sake!"

The liner rose and fell slowly. Out of the nose of the plane, which hadnow become a tiny submarine, started a narrow tube of black, oddly likethe sepia of a giant squid. Straight toward the side of the liner itwent. Above the rail the Secret Agents could see the pictured form ofPrester Kleig, hand upraised. The black streak reached the side of the_Stellar_. 

It touched the metal plates, spreading upon impact, growing, enlarging, to right and left, upward and downward, and where it touched the_Stellar_ the black of it seemed to erase that portion of the ship. Inthe slow motion every detail was apparent. At regular speed the blottingout of the _Stellar_ would have been instantaneous. 

Kleig saw himself rise slowly from the vanished rail, turning over andover, going down to the sea. He almost closed his eyes, bit his lips tokeep back the cries of terror when he saw the others aboard the linerrise, turn over and over, and fly in all directions like jackstraws in ahigh wind. 

 * * * * *

The ship was erased from beneath passengers and crew, and passengers andcrew fell into the sea. Out of the depths, from all directions, came thestarving denizens of the sea--starving because liners now were so few. 

"That's enough of that, Professor, " snapped Kleig. "Now jump aheadapproximately eight hours, and see if you can pick up that aero-subafter it dropped me on the Jersey Coast. "

The picture faded out quickly, the screaming of doomed human beings, already hours dead, called back to apparent living by the genius ofManiel died away, and for a space the screen was blank. 

Then, the sea again, storm-tossed as before, shifting here and there asManiel sought in the immensity of sea and sky for the thing he desired. 

"Two hundred miles south by east of New York City, " he droned. "There itis, gentlemen!"

They all saw it then, in full flight, eight thousand feet above thesurface of the Atlantic, traveling south by east at a dizzy rate ofspeed. 

"Note, " said Kleig, "that it keeps safely to the low altitudes, in orderto escape the notice of regular air traffic. "

No one answered. 

The eyes of the Secret Agents were on that flashing, bulbous-bodiedplane of the strange wings. It appeared to be heading directly for someobjective which must be reached at top speed. 

 * * * * *

For fifteen minutes the flight continued. Then the plane tilted over anddived, and at an altitude still of three thousand feet, the wingsslashed forward, clicking into their notches in the sides of the bulbousbody, with a sound like the ratchets on subway turnstiles, and, holdingtheir breath, the Secret Agents watched it plummet down to the sea. Itwas traveling with terrific speed when it struck, yet it entered thewater with scarcely a splash. 

Then, for the first time, an audible gasp, as that of one person, camefrom the lips of the Secret Agents. For now they could see the objectiveof the aero-sub. A monster shadow in the water, at a depth of fivehundred feet. A shadow which, as Maniel manipulated his instruments, became a floating underwater fortress, ten times the size of anysubmarine known to the Americas. 

Sporting like porpoises about this held-in-suspension fortress weremyriads of other aero-subs, maneuvering by squadrons and flights, weaving in and out like schools of fish. The plane which had bournePrester Kleig churned in between two of the formations, and vanishedinto the side of the motionless monster of the deep. 

The striking of a deep sea bell, muted by tons and tons of water, sounded in the Secret Room. 

"Don't turn it off, Maniel, " said Kleig. "There's more yet!"

And there was, for the sound of the bell was a signal. The aero-subs, darting outward from the side of the floating fortress like fish dartingout of seaweed, were plunging up toward the surface of the Atlantic. Breathlessly the Secret Agents watched them. 

They broke water like flying fish, and their wings shot backward fromtheir notches in the myriad bulbous bodies to click into place in flyingposition as the scores of aero-subs took the air above the invisiblehiding places of the mother submarine. 

 * * * * *

At eight thousand feet the aero-subs swung into battle formation and, asthough controlled by word of command, they maneuvered there like onevast machine of a central control--beautiful as the flight of swallows, deadly as anything that flew. 

The Secret Agents swept the cold sweat from their brows, and sighs ofterror escaped them all. 

At that moment came the voice, loud in the Secret Room, which Kleig atleast immediately recognized:

"Well, gentlemen, are you satisfied that resistance is futile?"

And Kleig whispered the name, over and over again. 

"Moyen! Moyen!"

It was Prester Kleig, Master of the Secret Room, who was the first toregain control after the nerve-numbing question which, asked in farMadagascar, was heard by the Agents in the Secret Room. 

"No!" he shouted. "No! No! Moyen, in the end we will beat you!"

Only silence answered, but deep in the heart of Prester Kleig sounded aburst of sardonic laughter--the laughter of Moyen, half-god of Asia. Then the voice again:

"The attack is beginning, gentlemen! Within an hour you will havefurther evidence of the might of Moyen!"

CHAPTER VI

_Vanishing Ships_

Prester Kleig, ordered to Madagascar from the Secret Room, had beenmerely an operative, honored above others in that he had been one ofthe few, at that time, ever to visit the Secret Room. Now, however, because he had walked closer to Moyen than anyone else, he assumedleadership almost by natural right, and the men who had once deferred tohim took orders from him. 

"Gentlemen, " he snapped, while the last words of Moyen still hung in theair of the Secret Room, "we must fight Moyen from here. The best brainsin the United Americas are gathered here, and if Moyen can bebeaten--_if_ he can be beaten--he will be beaten from the Secret Room!"

A sigh from the lips of Professor Maniel. The President of the UnitedAmericas nodded his head, as though he too mutely gave authority intothe hands of Prester Kleig. The other Secret Agents shifted slightly, but said nothing. 

"I have been away a year, " said Kleig, "as you know, and many thingshave come into regular use since I left. Professor Maniel's machine forexample, upon which he was working when I departed under orders. Therewill be further use for it in our struggle with Moyen. Professor, willyou kindly range the ocean, beginning at once, and see how many of thesemonsters of Moyen we have to contend with?"

 * * * * *

Professor Maniel turned back to his instruments, which he fondled withgentle, loving hands. 

"We have nothing with which to combat the attacking forces of Moyen, "went on Kleig, "save antiquated airplanes, and such obsolete warships asare available. These will be mere fodder for the guns, or rays, orwhatever it is that Moyen uses in his aero-subs. Thousands, perhapsmillions, of human lives will be lost; but better this than that Moyenrule the West! Better this than that our women be given into the handsof this mob as spoils of war!"

From the Secret Agents a murmur of assent. 

And then, that voice again, startling, clear, with the slightestsuggestion of some Oriental accent, in the Secret Room. 

"Do not depend too much, gentlemen, " it said, "upon your antiquatedwarships! See, I am merciful, in that I do not allow you to send themagainst me loaded with men to be slaughtered or drowned! ProfessorManiel, I would ask you to turn that plaything of yours and gaze uponthe fleet of obsolete ships anchored in Hampton Roads! In passing, Professor, I venture to guess that the secret of how I am able to talkwith you gentlemen, here in your Secret Room, is no secret at all toyou. Now look!"

The Secret Agents gasped again, in consternation. 

From the white lips of mouselike Maniel came mumbled words, even as hishands worked with lightning speed. 

"His machine is simply a variation of my own. And, gentlemen, compatriots, with it he could as easily project himself, bodily, hereinto the room with us!"

 * * * * *

Something like a suppressed scream from one of the men present. A coldhand of ice about the heart of Prester Kleig. But the words of ProfessorManiel were limned on the retina of his brain in letters of fire. Suppose Moyen _were_ to project himself into the Secret Room. .. . 

But he would not. He was no fool, and even these Secret Agents, most ofwhom were old and no longer strong, would have torn him limb from limb. But those words of Maniel set whirling once more, and in a newdirection, the thoughts of Prester Kleig. 

"Mr. President, gentlemen. .. . " It was the voice of Professor Maniel. 

All eyes turned again to the screen upon which the professor worked hismiracles, which today were commonplaces, which yesterday had beenundreamed of. Every Secret Agent recognized the outlines of HamptonRoads, with Norfolk and its towering buildings in the background, andthe obsolete warships riding silently at anchor in the roadstead. 

For three years they had been there, while a procrastinating Cabinet, Congress and Senate had debated their permanent disposal. Theyrepresented millions of dollars in money, and were utterly worthless. Prester Kleig, looking at them now, could see them putting out to sea, loaded with brave-visaged men, volunteering to go to sure destruction tofeed the rapacity of Moyen's hordes. Men going out to sea in tubs, singing. .. . 

But these ships were silent. No plumes of smoke from their funnels. Likefloating mausoleums, filled with dead hopes, shells of past and departedglories. 

The beating of waves against their sides could plainly be heard. Theanchor chains squeaked rustily in the hawse-holes. Wind sighed throughregal, towering superstructures, and no man walked the decks of any oneof them. 

 * * * * *

With bated breath the Secret Agents watched. 

Why had Moyen bidden them turn their attention to these shells oferstwhile naval grandeur?

This time no gasps broke from the lips of the Secret Agents. Not eventhe sound of breathing could be heard. Just the sighing of wind throughthe superstructures of a hundred ships, the whispering of waves againstrusted bulkheads. 

Almost imperceptibly at first the towering dreadnought in the foregroundbegan to move! Slowly, the water swirling about her, she backed awayfrom her anchor, tightening the curve of the anchor chain! Waterquivered about the point of the chain's contact with the waves!

Quickly the eyes of the Secret Agents swept along the street of ships. The same backward motion, of dragging against their anchor chains, wasvisible at the bow of each warship!

With not a soul aboard them, the ships were waking into strange andawesome life, dragging at their anchors, like hounds pulling at leashesto be free and away!

"How are they doing it?" It was almost a whisper from the President. 

"Some electro-magnetic force, sir!" stated Prester Kleig. "ProfessorBlaine, that is your province! Please note what is happening, and adviseus at once if you see how they are doing it!"

A grunt of affirmation from surly, obese Professor Blaine. 

 * * * * *

All eyes turned back again to the miracle of the moving ships. One byone, with crashes which echoed and re-echoed through the Secret Room, the anchor chains of the dreadnoughts parted. The ends of them swungfrom the prows of the warships, while the severed portions splashed intothe Roads, and the waters hid them from view. 

The great dreadnought in the foreground swung slowly about until herprow was pointed in the direction of the open sea, and though no sea wasrunning, no smoke rose from her funnels, she got slowly, ponderouslyunder way, and started out the Roads. Behind her, in formation, theother ships swung into line. 

In a matter of seconds, faster than any of these vessels had evertraveled before, they were racing in column for the open Atlantic. Andfrom the sound apparatus came wails and shrieks of terror, thelamentations of men and women frightened as they had never beenfrightened before. 

The shores behind the moving column of ships was moment by momentgrowing blacker with people--a black sea of people, whose faces werewhite as chalk with terror. 

But on, out to sea, moved the column of brave ships. 

A new note entered into the picture, as from all sides airplanes of manymakes swooped in, and swept back and forth over the moving ships, whilehooded heads looked out of pits, and faces of pilots were aghast atwhat they saw. 

 * * * * *

A ghost column of ships, moving out to sea, speed increasing moment bymoment unbelievably. Even now, five minutes after the first dreadnoughthad started seaward, the wake of each ship spread away on either hand inthe two sides of a watery triangle whose walls were a dozen feethigh--racing for the shores with all the sullen majesty of tidal waves. 

The crowds gave back, and their screams rose into the air in afrightened roar of appalling sound. 

Even now, so rapidly did the warships travel, many of the planes couldthrottle down, so that they flew directly above the heaving decks of therunaway warships. 

"Get word to them!" cried Prester Kleig suddenly. "Get word to them thatif they follow the ships out to sea not a pilot will escape alive!"

One of the Secret Agents rose and hurried from the Secret Room, traveling at top speed for the first of the many doors enroute to thebroadcasting tower from which all the planes could be reached at once. Prester Kleig turned back to the magic screen of Maniel. 

The warships, water thrown aside by the lifting thrust of their forefeetin mountains that raced landward with ever-increasing fury, wereclearing the Roads and swinging south by east, heading into the wastesof the Atlantic. As they cleared the land, and open water for unnumberedmiles lay ahead, the speed of the mighty ships increased to a pointwhere they rode as high on the water as racing launches, and thecreaking and groaning of their rusty bolts and spars were a continualpaean of protest in the sound apparatus accompanying the showing of themiracle on the screen. 

"They're heading straight for the spot where that super-submarine lies!"said the President, and no one answered him. 

 * * * * *

Prester Kleig, watching, was racing over in his mind what he couldrecall of his country's armament. Warships were useless, as was beingproved here before his eyes. But there still remained airplanes, incountless numbers, which could be diverted from ocean travel and fromroutine business, to battle this menace of Moyen. 

But. .. . 

He shuddered as he pictured in his mind's eye the meeting of hiscountry's flower of flying manhood with the monsters of Moyen. 

His eyes, as he thought, were watching the racing of those oceangreyhounds, out to sea. They were now out of sight of land, and stillsome of the planes followed them. 

A half hour passed, and then. .. . 

The American pilots, in obedience to the radio signals, turning backfrom this strange phenomenon of the ghost column of capital ships. 

Simultaneously, out of the sky dead ahead, dropped the first flight ofMoyen's aero-subs. 

At the same moment the mysterious power which had dragged the ships tosea was withdrawn, and the warships, with no hands to guide them, swungwhither they willed, and floated in as many directions as there wereships, under their forward momentum. There were a score of collisions, and some of the ships were in sinking condition even before theaero-subs began their labors. 

 * * * * *

The remaining ships floated high out of the water, because they carriedno ballast, and from all sides the aero-subs of Moyen settled to thetask of destruction--destruction which was simply a warning of what wasto come: Moyen's manner of proving to the Americas the fact that he wasall-powerful. 

"God, what fools!" cried Prester Kleig. 

The rearmost of the American aviators had looked back, had seen thefirst of the aero-subs drop down among the doomed ships. Instantly heturned out to sea again, signalling as he did so to the nearest otherplanes. And in spite of the radio warning a hundred planes answered thatsignal and swept back to investigate this new mystery. 

"They're going to death!" groaned the President. 

"Yes, " said Kleig, softly, "but it saves us ordering others to death. Perhaps we may learn something of value as we watch them die!"

CHAPTER VII

_Golden Oblivion_

"This, " said Prester Kleig, as coldly precise as a judge pronouncingsentence of death, "will precipitate the major engagement with Moyen'sforces. The fools, to rush in like this, when they have been warned! Buteven so, they are magnificent!"

The pilots of the aero-subs must instantly have noticed the return ofthe American pilots, for some of the aero-subs which had dropped to theocean's surface rose again almost instantly, and swept into battleformation above the drifting hulks of the warships. 

The Americans were wary. They drew together like frightened chickenswhen a hawk hovers above them, and watched the activities of theaero-subs, every move of each one being at the same time visible andaudible to the Secret Agents in the Capitol's Secret Room. 

The aero-subs which had submerged singled out their particular preyamong the floating ships, and the Secret Agents, trying to see how eachseparate act of destruction was accomplished, watched the aero-sub inthe foreground, which happened to be concentrating on the dreadnoughtwhich had led the ghost-march of the warships out to sea. 

 * * * * *

The aero-sub circled the swaying dreadnought as a shark circles a wreck, and through the walls of the aero-sub the watchers in the Secret Roomcould see the four-man crew of the thing. Grim faced men, men of theOrient they plainly were, coldly concentrating on the work in hand. Their faces were those of men who are merciless, even brutal, withneither heart nor compassion of any kind for weaker ones. One manmaneuvered the aero-sub, while the other three concentrated on theapparatus in the nose of the hybrid vessel. 

"See, " spoke Prester Kleig again, "if you can tell what manner of raythey use, and how it is projected. That's your province, GeneralMunson!"

From the particular Secret Agent named, who was expert for war in themembership of the Secret Room, came a short grunt of affirmation. A fewmurmured words. 

"I'll be able to tell more about it when I see how they operate whenthey are flying. That black streak under water . .. Well, I must see itout of the water, and then. .. . "

But here General Munson ended, for the aero-sub which they wereespecially watching had got into action against the dreadnought. 

The aero-sub was motionless and submerged just off the port bow of thedreadnought. The three men inside the aero-sub were working swiftly andefficiently with the complicated but minute machinery in the nose oftheir transport. 

"It can be controlled, then, this ray, " said Munson, interruptinghimself. "Watch!"

 * * * * *

From the nose of the aero-sub leaped, like a streak of black lightning, that ebon agency of death. It struck the prow of the battleship--and theprow, as far aft as the well-deck, simply vanished from sight, disintegrated! It was as though it had never been, and for a second, soswiftly had it happened, the water of the ocean held the impression thatportion of the warship had made--as an explosive leaves a crater in thesoil of earth!

Then a drumming roar as the sea rushed in to claim its own. The roaring, as of a Niagara, as the waters claimed the ship, rushing downpassageways into the hold, possessing the warship with all theinvincible, speedy might of the sea. 

Mingled with this roaring was the shivering, vibratory sound whichPrester Kleig had experienced in his half-dream. The sound was sointense that it fairly rocked the Secret Room to its furthermost cranny. 

For a second the dreadnought, wounded to death, seemed to shudder, tohesitate, then to move backward as though wincing from her death blow. It was the pound of the inrushing waters which did it. Then up came thestern of the mighty ship, as she started her last long plunge into thedepths. 

But attention had swung to another warship, on the starboard beam ofwhich another aero-sub had taken up position. Again the ebon streak ofdeath from her blunt nose, smashing in and through the warship, directlyamidships, cutting her in twain as though the black streak had been apair of shears, the warship a strip of tissue paper. 

Up went the prow and the stern of this one, and together, the waterseparating the two parts as it rushed into the gap, the broken warshipwent down to its final resting place. 

 * * * * *

Abruptly Professor Maniel swung back to the American planes which hadcome back to investigate the activities of the aero-subs, and on thescreen, in the midst of the battle formation into which the pilots hadswept to hurriedly, the Secret Agents could see the faces of thosepilots. .. . 

White as chalk with fear, mouths open in gasping unbelief. One man, apale-faced youth, was the first to recover. He stared around at hiscompatriots, and plainly through the sound apparatus in the Secret Roomcame his swift radio signals. 

"Attack! Who will follow me against these people?"

His signals were very plain. So, too, were the answers of the otherpilots, and the heart of Prester Kleig swelled with pride as he listenedto the answering signals--and counted them, discovered that every lastpilot there present elected to stay with this youngster, to avenge theircountry for this contemptuous insult which had been put upon her by therape of Hampton Roads. 

Into swift formation they swept, and with these planes--all planes inuse were required by franchise of operating companies to be equipped forthe emergencies of war--swung into an echelon formation, the youthfulpilot leading by mutual consent. 

They swept at full speed toward the warships, four of which had by thistime been sent to destruction--one of which had appeared to vanishutterly in the space of a single heartbeat, so quickly that for a secondor two the shape of its bilge, the bulge of its keel, was visible in theface of the deep--and openly challenged the aero-subs. 

 * * * * *

Muzzles of compressed air guns projected from the wing-tips of theplanes. Buttons were pressed which elevated the muzzles of guns arrangedto fire upward from either side the fighting pits, twin guns that werefired downward from the same central magazine--the only guns in use inthe Americas which fired in opposite directions at the same time. 

But for a few moments the aero-subs refused combat. Their speed wasterrific, dazzling. They eluded the thrusts, the dives and plunges ofthe American ships as easily as a swallow eludes the dive of a buzzard. 

It came to Prester Kleig, however, that the aero-subs were merelyplaying with the Americans; that when they elected to move, the planeswould be blasted from the sky as easily as the warships were beingerased from the surface of the Atlantic. 

One by one, as methodically as machines, the aero-sub pilots blasted thewarships into nothingness. They had their orders, and they went abouttheir performance with a rigidity of discipline which astounded theSecret Agents. They had been ordered to destroy the warships, and theywere doing that first--would go on to completion of this task, no matterhow many American planes buzzed about their ears. 

But one by one as the warships sank, the aero-subs which had either sunkor erased them made the surface and leaped into space with a snappingback of wings that was horribly businesslike as to sound, and climbed upto take part in the fight against the American planes, which mustinevitably come. 

 * * * * *

The last warship, cut squarely in two from stem to stern along hercenter, as though split thus by a bolt of lightning, fell apart likepieces of cake, and splashed down, sinking away while the spume of herdisintegration rolled back from her fallen sides in white-crested waves. 

"It exemplifies the policies of Moyen, " said Prester Kleig, "for hisconquest of the world is a conquest of destruction. "

The last aero-sub took to the sky, and the Americans rushed into battlewith fine disregard for what they knew must be certain death. They werenot fools, exactly, and they had seen, but not understood, the manner inwhich those gallant old hounds of the sea had been erased fromexistence. 

But in they went, plunging squarely into the heart of the aero-subs'leading formation, which formation consisted of three aero-subs, flyinga wing and wing formation. 

The young American signaled with upraised hand, and the American pilotsmade their first move. Every plane started rolling, at dazzling speed, on the axis of its fuselage, while bullets spewed from the guns thatfired through the propellers. 

Bullets smashed into the leading aero-subs, with no apparent effect, though for a second it seemed that the central aero-sub of the leadingformation hesitated for a moment in flight. 

Then, swift as had that black streak flashed from the nose of aero-subssubmerged, a streak darted from the nose of the central aero-sub, andglistened in the sun like molten gold!

 * * * * *

It touched the youngster who had called for volunteers for his attackagainst this strange enemy. It touched his plane--and the plane vanishedinstantly, while for a fraction of a second the pilot was visible in hisplace, in the posture of sitting, hand on a row of buttons which did notexist, head forward slightly as he aimed guns that had vanished. 

Then the pilot, still living, apparently unhurt, plunged down eightthousand feet to the sea. The water geysered up as he struck, thenclosed over the spot, and the gallant American youngster had become thefirst victim in battle of the monsters of Moyen. 

Victim of a slender lancet of what seemed to be golden lightning. 

"He could have killed the pilot aloft there, " came quietly from Munson, "but he chose to pull his plane away from around him! Their control ofthe ray is miraculous!"

As though to confirm the statement of Munson, the leading aero-substruck again, a second plane. The plane vanished, but from the spotwhere it had flown, not even a bit of metal or of man sufficiently largeto be seen by the delicate recording instruments of Maniel dropped outof the sky. 

The ray of gold was a ray of oblivion if the minions of Moyen willed. 

CHAPTER VIII

_Charmion_

"Prester Kleig, " came suddenly into the Secret Room the voice of fardistant Moyen, "you will at once make a change in your rules regardingthe admission of other than Secret Agents to the Secret Room. You willat once see that Charmion Kane, sister of your friend, is allowed toenter!"

"God Almighty!" A cry of agony from the lips of Prester Kleig. He hadnot forgotten Charmion, but simply had had to move so swiftly that hehad put her out of his mind. For a year he had not seen her, and an houror two more could not matter greatly. 

"And her brother Carlos, " went on the voice, "see that he, too, isadmitted. I wish, for certain reasons, that Charmion come unharmedthrough the direct attack I am about to make against your country. Iconfess that, save for this ability to speak to you, I am unable to workany damage to the Secret Room, which is therefore the safest place forCharmion Kane! Carlos Kane is being spared because he is her brother!"

There was no mistaking the import of this sinister command from Moyen. He had singled out Charmion, the best beloved of Prester Kleig, for hisattentions, and that he was sure of the success of his attack againstthe United Americas was proved by the calm assurance of his voice, andthe fact that, concentrating on the attack as he must be, he still foundtime for a thought of Charmion Kane. 

 * * * * *

The hand of ice which had seldom been absent from the heart of Kleigsince he had first seen and heard the voice of Moyen gripped him anew. Blood pounded maddeningly in his temples. Cold sweat bathed his body. 

But the rest of the Secret Agents, save to freeze into immobility whenthe hated voice spoke, gave no sign. They had worries of their own, forno instructions had been given that they bring their own loved ones intothe sanctuary of the Secret Room. 

As though answering the thoughts of the others, the hated voice spokeagain. 

"I regret that I cannot arrange for sanctuary for the loved ones of allof you, for you are gallant antagonists; why save the few, when the manymust perish? For I know you will not surrender, however much I haveproved to you that I am invincible. But Charmion Kane must be saved. "

"God!" whispered Kleig. "God!"

Then spoke General Munson. 

"I think this ray which the Moyenites use is a variation of theprinciple used in the intricate machinery of Professor Maniel, thoughhow they render it visible I do not know. But it doesn't matter, and maybe only a blind! You'll note that when the black streak, or the goldenray, strikes anything that thing instantly disintegrates. A certainpitch of resonance will break a pane of glass. It's a matter ofvibration, solely, wherein the molecules composing any object animate orinanimate, are hurled in all directions instantaneously. 

"Professor Maniel's apparatus, the Vibration-Retarder, is able torecapture the vibrations, speeding outward endlessly through space, andto reconstruct, and _draw back_ to visibility the objects destroyed bythis visible vibratory ray, whatever it is. This problem, then, fallsinto the province of Professor Maniel!"

 * * * * *

Through the heart and soul of Prester Kleig there suddenly flowed agreat surge of hope. 

"General Munson, if you will operate the machinery of theVibration-Retarder, I wish to talk with Professor Maniel!"

Instantly, efficiently, without a word in reply to the eager command ofPrester Kleig, General Munson relieved Professor Maniel at the apparatuswhich Maniel called the Vibration-Retarder, his invention which he hadcombined with audible teleview to complete this visual miracle of theSecret Room. Professor Maniel stepped to where Prester Kleig wassitting. 

Prester Kleig put fingers to his lips for silence, and an expression ofsurprise crossed the wrinkled dead-white face of the Professor. 

Before Kleig could speak, however, there came a signal from somewhereoutside the Secret Room, a signal which said that the doors were beingopened and that a personage was coming. The Secret Agents looked at oneanother in surprise, for every man who had a right to be inside theSecret Room was already present. 

"I know, " said Kleig, his face a mask of terror. "It is Charmion andCarlos Kane! Moyen, the devil, has managed to make sure of obedience tohis orders!"

The Secret Agents turned back to the screen, upon which the view of thefirst aerial brush of the American flyers with the minions of Moyen, intheir aero-subs, was drawing to a terrible close. 

For, as the aero-sub commanders had played with the warships, which hadno human beings aboard them, so now did they play with the planes of theAmericas. 

 * * * * *

One American flyer, startled into a frenzy by the fate of his fellows, put his helicopter into action, and leaped madly out of the midst of thebattle. Instantly an aero-sub zoomed, skyward after him. Again thatgolden streak of light from the nose of an aero-sub, and the helicoptervanes and the slender staff upon whose tip they whirled vanished, shornshort off above the vane-grooves in the top of the wing!

The plane dropped away, fluttering like a falling leaf for a moment, before the aviator started his three propellers again. 

A cheer broke from the lips of Prester Kleig as he watched. Thecommander of that particular aero-sub, apparently contemptuous of thisflyer who had tried to cut out of the fight, allowed him to fall awayunmolested--and the American, driven berserk by the casual, contemptuoustreatment accorded him by this strange enemy, zoomed the second hispropellers whirred into top-speed action, and raced up the sky towardthe belly of the aero-sub. 

"If only the aero-sub has a blind spot!" cried Prester Kleig. 

 * * * * *

In that instant a roaring crash sounded in the Secret Room as theAmerican plane, going full speed, crashed, propellers foremost, into thebelly of the aero-sub. 

And the aero-sub, whose brothers had seemed until this momentinvincible, did not escape the wrath of the American--though theAmerican went into oblivion with it!

For, welded together, American plane and aero-sub started the eightthousand feet plunge downward to the sea!

"Watch!" shrieked Munson. "Watch!"

As the aero-sub and the plane plunged down through the formation offighters, the aero-sub pilots saw it, and they fled in wild dismay andat top speed from their falling compatriot. Why? For a moment it was notapparent. And then it was. 

For out of the body of the doomed aero-subs came sheets of golden flame!Not the flames of fire, but the golden sheen of that streak which theaero-subs had used against the American planes already out of the fight!The American flyer had crashed into the container, whatever it was, thatharnessed the agency through which the minions of Moyen had destroyedthe _Stellar_, and the battleships raped from Hampton Roads!

"It is liquid, then!" shrieked Munson. 

And it seemed to be. For a second the golden mantle, strange, awe-inspiring, bathed and rendered invisible the aero-sub and the planewhich had slain her. Then the golden flame vanished utterly, instantly--and in the air where it had been there was nothing! Theaero-sub was gone, and the plane whose mad charge had erased her. 

"Her own death dealing agency destroyed her!" shrieked Munson. "And theother aero-subs cut away from the fight to save themselves, because theytoo carry death and destruction within them!"

 * * * * *

Then the inner door of the Secret Room opened and two people entered. One of them, a dazzling beauty with glorious black hair and the tread ofa princess, a picture of perfection from jeweled sandals to coiffuredhair, was Charmion Kane. Behind her came her brother, whose face waschalky white. But Charmion, as she crossed to Kleig and kissed him, while her eyes were luminous with love, held her head proudly high, imperious. 

"I know, " she said softly to Kleig, "and I am not afraid! I know youwill prevent it!"

Kleig waved the two to chairs and turned again to Professor Maniel. 

On a piece of paper he wrote swiftly, using a mode of shorthand knownonly to the Secret Agents. 

"Professor, " he wrote feverishly, "can you reverse the process used inyour Vibration-Retarder? Tell me with your eyes, for Moyen may even knowthis writing, and I am sure he hears what we say here, may even be ableto see us?"

Professor Maniel started and stared deeply into the eyes of PresterKleig. His face grew thoughtful. He brushed his slender hand over themassive dome of his brow. Hope burned high in the heart of PresterKleig. 

 * * * * *

Then, despite Kleig's instructions to answer merely by the expression inhis eyes, Professor Maniel leaned forward and wrote quickly on the pieceof paper Kleig had used. 

"Two hours!"

Nothing else, no explanations; but Prester Kleig knew. Maniel believedhe could do it, but he needed two hours in which to perfect his theoryand make it workable. Kleig knew that had he been able to do it in twoyears, or two decades, it still would have been in the nature of amiracle. 

But two hours. .. . 

And Moyen had said that he was preparing to attack at once. 

In two hours Moyen, unless the Americas fought against him with everyresource at their command, could depopulate half the Western World. Kleig looked back to the screen. 

There was not a single American plane in the sky above the graveyard ofthose vanished warships. And the aero-subs, swift flying as the wind, were racing back to the mother ship, scores of miles away. 

Munson worked with the Vibration-Retarder, the Sound-and-Vision devices, ranging the sea off the coast to either side of that huge, suspendedfortress which was the mother submarine of the aero-subs. 

Gasps of terror, though the sight was not unexpected, broke from thelips of every person in the Secret Room. 

For super-monsters of Moyen were moving to the attack. 

CHAPTER IX

_Flowers of Martyrdom_

For a minute the Secret Agents were appalled by the air of might of thedeep-sea monsters of Moyen, brought bodily, almost into the Secret Roomby the activities of General Munson at the Sound-and-Vision apparatus. 

Off the coast, miles away, yet looming moment by moment larger, indicating the deceptively swift speed of the monsters, were scores ofthe great under-water fortresses, traveling toward the coast of theUnited Americas in a far-flung formation, each submarine separated fromits neighbor to right and left by something like a hundred miles, easycruising radius for the little aero-subs carried inside the monsters. 

That each submarine did carry such spawn of Satan was plainly seen, foras the great submarines moved landward, scores of aero-subs sportedgleefully about the mother ships. There was no counting the number ofthem. 

Two hours Maniel needed for his labors, which meant that for two hoursthe flower of the country's manhood must try to hold in check the mightyhordes of Moyen. 

"Somewhere there, " stated Prester Kleig, "in one or the other of thosemonsters, is Moyen himself. I know that since he wished Charmion savedfor his attentions! Do your work with your apparatus, Munson, while I goout to the radio tower to broadcast an appeal for volunteers. Charmion--Carlos. .. . "

But Prester Kleig found that he could not continue. Not that it wasnecessary, for Charmion and Carlos knew what was in his mind. Charmionwas a lady of vast intelligence, from whom life's little ironies had notbeen hidden--and Kane and Kleig had already discussed the activities ofMoyen where women were concerned. 

 * * * * *

Prester Kleig hurried to the Central Radio Tower, and as he passedthrough each of the many doors leading out to the roof of the newCapitol Building the guards at the doors left to form a guard for him, at this moment the most precious man in the country, because he knewbest the terrible trials which faced her. 

The country was in turmoil. It seemed almost impossible that a whole dayhad passed since Prester Kleig had returned and entered the Secret Room. In the meantime a fleet of battleships had been drawn by some mysteriousagency out to sea from Hampton Roads, and a fleet of fighting planeswhich had followed the ghost column outward had not returned. 

News-gatherers had spread the stories, distorted and garbled, across thewestern continents, and throughout the western confederacy men, womenand children lived in the throes of the greatest fear that had evergripped them. Fear held them most because they could not give the causeof their fear a name--save one. .. . 

Moyen. .. . And the name was on the lips of everyone, and frenzied womanstilled their squalling babes with its mention. 

No word yet from the Secret Room, but Prester Kleig had scarcelyappeared from it than someone started the radio signal which informedthe frenzied, waiting world of the west that information, exact ifstartling, would now be forthcoming. 

In millions of homes, in thousands of high-flying planes, listenerstuned in at the clear-all hum. 

 * * * * *

Prester Kleig wasted no time in preliminaries. 

"Prester Kleig speaking. We are threatened by Moyen, with scores ofmonster submarines, each a mother ship for scores of aero-subs, combinations of airplanes and miniature submarines. They are moving upon our eastern coast, from some secret base which we have not yetlocated. They are equipped with death dealing instruments of which wehave but the most fragmentary knowledge, and for two hours I must callupon all flyers to combat the menace; until the Secret Agents, especially Professor Maniel, have had opportunity to counteract theminions of Moyen. 

"Flyers of the United Americas! In the name of our country I ask thatvolunteers gather on the eastern coast, each flyer proceeding at once tothe nearest coast-landing, after dropping all passengers. Yourcommanders have already been named by your various organizations, asrequired by franchise, and orders for the movement of the entire wingedarmada will come from this station. However, the orders will simply bethis: Hold Moyen's forces at bay for a period of two hours! And knowthat many of you go to certain death, and make your own decisions as towhether you shall volunteer!"

This ended, Prester Kleig, excitement mounting high, hurried back to theSecret Room. 

Now the public knew, and as the American public is given to doing, itsteadied down when it knew the worst. Fear of the unknown had changedthe public into a myriad-souled beast gone berserk. Now that knowledgewas exact men grew calm of face, determined, and women assumed thesupporting role which down the ages has been that of brave women, mothers of men. 

 * * * * *

A period of silence for a time after Prester Kleig's pronouncement. 

As he entered the first door leading into the Secret Room, Carlos Kanemet and passed him with a smile. 

"You called for winged volunteers, did you not, Kleig?" he askedquietly. 

Kleig nodded. "You are going?" he said. 

"Yes. It is my duty. "

No other words were necessary, as the men shook hands. Prester Kleiggoing on to the Secret Room, Carlos Kane going out to join the mightyarmada which must fight against the minions of Moyen. 

The words of Prester Kleig were heard by the pilots of the sky-lanes. The passenger pits, equipped with self-opening parachutes which droppedjumpers in series of long falls in order to acquire swift but accurateand safe landing--they opened at intervals in long falls of two thousandfeet, stayed the fall, then closed again, so that drops were almostcontinuous until the last four hundred feet--and pilots, swiftly makingup their minds, dropped their passengers, banked their planes, and racedinto the east. 

 * * * * *

All over the Americas pilots dropped their passengers and their loads iftheir franchises called for the carrying of freight, and banked about totake part in the first skirmish with the Moyenites. 

Dropping figures almost darkened the sky as passengers plunged downwardafter the startling signal from Washington. Flowers, which were theumbrellas of chutes, opened and closed like breathing winged orchids, letting their burdens safely to earth. 

And clouds and fleets of airplanes came in from all directions to land, in rows and rows which were endless, wing and wing, along the easterncoast. 

Prester Kleig had scarcely entered the Secret Room than the hated voiceof Moyen again broke upon the ears of the machinelike Secret Agents. 

"This is madness, gentlemen! My people will annihilate yours!"

But, since time for speech had passed, not one of the Secret Agents madeanswer or paid the slightest heed to the warning, though deep in theheart of each and every one was the belief that Moyen spoke no more thanthe truth. 

Too, there was a growing respect for the half-god of Asia, in that hewas good enough to warn them of the holocaust which faced their country. 

By hundreds and thousands, wing and wing, airplanes dropped to theAtlantic coast at the closest point of contact, when the signal reachedthem. At high altitudes, planes crossing the Atlantic turned back andreturned at top speed, dropping their passengers as soon as over land. That Moyen made no move to prevent the return of flyers out over theocean, and now coming back, was an ominous circumstance. 

It seemed to show that he held the American flyers, all of them, inutter contempt. 

 * * * * *

Prester Kleig regarded the time. It had been half an hour since Moyenhad spoken of attack, half an hour since the monsters of the deep hadstarted the inexorable move toward land. On the screen the submarineswere bulking larger and larger as the moments fled, until it seemed tothe Secret Agents that the great composite shadow of them already wassweeping inland from the coast. 

As the coast came close ahead of the monster subs the little aero-subs, to the surprise of the Secret Agents, all vanished into their respectivemother ships. 

"But they have to use them, " groaned Munson. "For their submarines areuseless in frontal attack against our shores!"

"I am not so sure of that, " said Prester Kleig. "For I have a suspicionthat those submarines have tractors under their keels, and that they cancome out on land! If this is so the monsters can, guarded byarmour-plate, penetrate to the very heart of our most populated areasbefore their aero-subs are released. "

None of the Secret Agents as yet had stopped to ponder how the monstershad reached their positions, and why Moyen was attacking from the east, when the Pacific side of the continents would have appeared to be theobvious point of attack, and would have obviated the necessity of long, secret under-sea journeys wherein discovery prematurely must have beenone of the many worries of the submarine commanders. 

The mere fact of the presence of the monsters was enough. What hadpreceded their presence was unimportant, save that their presence, andtheir near approach to the shore undetected, further proved theexecutive and planning genius of Moyen. 

Two miles, on an average, off the eastern coast the submarines laidtheir eggs--the aero-subs, which darted from the sides of the motherships in flights and squadrons, made the surface, and leaped into thesky. 

Five minutes later and the signal went forth to the phalanx of thevolunteers. 

"Take off! Fly east and engage the enemy, and hold him in check, and theGod of our fathers go with you!"

One hour had passed since Moyen's ultimatum when the first vanguard ofthe American flyers, obeying the peremptory signal, took the air anddarted eastward to meet the winged death-harbingers of Moyen. 

CHAPTER X

"_They Shall Not Pass!_"

Prester Kleig's heartfelt desire, as the American flyers closed with thefirst of the aero-subs, was to go out with them and aid them in theattack against the Moyenites. But he knew, and it was a tacit thing, that he best served his country from the safe haven of the Secret Room. 

As he watched the scenes unfold on the screen of Maniel's genius, withoccasional glances at the somewhat mysterious but profound andconcentrated labors of Maniel, Charmion Kane rose from her place andcame to his side. 

Wide-eyed as she watched the joining of battle, she stood there, hertiny hand encased in the tense one of Prester Kleig. 

"You would like to be out there, " she murmured. "I know it! But yourcountry needs you here--and I have already given Carlos!"

Prester Kleig tightened his grip on her hand. 

 * * * * *

There was deep, silent understanding between these two, and PresterKleig, in fighting against the Moyenites, realized, even above hisrealization that his labors were primarily for the benefit of hiscountry, that he really matched wits with Moyen for the sake ofCharmion. Had anyone asked him whether he would have sacrificed her forthe benefit of his country, it would have been a difficult question toanswer. 

He was glad that the question was never asked. 

"Yes, beloved, " he whispered, "I would like to be out there, but thegreatest need for me is here. "

But even so he felt as though he was betraying those intrepid flyers hewas sending to sure death. Yet they had volunteered, and it was the onlyway. 

Maniel, a gnomelike little man with a Titan's brain, labored with hiscalculations, made swiftly concrete his theories, while at theSound-and-Vision apparatus excitable General Munson ranged the aerialbattlefield to see how the tide of battle ebbed and flowed. 

That neither side would either ask or give quarter was instantlyapparent, for they rushed head-on to meet each other, those vastopposing winged armadas, at top speed, and not a single individualswerved from his course, though at least the Americans knew that deathrode the skyways ahead. 

Then. .. . 

The battle was joined. Moyen's forces were superior in armament. Theirsky-steeds were faster, more readily maneuverable, though the flyingforces of the Americas in the last five years had made vast strides inaviation. But what the Americans lacked in power they made up for infearless courage. 

 * * * * *

The plan of battle seemed automatically to work itself out. 

The first vanguard of American planes came into contact with the forcesof Moyen, and from the noses of countless aero-subs spurted that goldenstreak which the Secret Agents knew and dreaded. 

The first flight of planes, stretching from horizon to horizon, vanishedfrom the sky with that dreadful surety which had marked the passing ofthe _Stellar_, and such of those warships as had felt the full force ofthe visible ray. 

From General Munson rose a groan of anguish. These convertible fightingplanes had been the pride of the heart of the old warrior. To do himcredit, however, it was the wanton, so terribly inevitable destructionof the flyers themselves which affected him. It was so final, soabsolute--and so utterly impossible to combat. 

"Wait!" snapped Prester Kleig. 

For the intrepid flyers behind that vanguard which had vanished hadwitnessed the wholesale disintegration of the leading element of thevast armada, and the pilots realized on the instant that no headlongrush into the very noses of the aero-subs would avail anything. 

The vast American formation broke into a mad maelstrom of whirling, darting, diving planes. Every third plane plummeted downward, everysecond one climbed, and the remaining ships, even in the face of whathad happened to the vanished first flight, held steadily to the front. 

In this mad, seemingly meaningless formation, they closed on theaero-subs. Without having seen the fight, the Americans were aping theaction of that one nameless flyer who had charged the aero-sub that hadbeen destroyed. 

 * * * * *

Kleig remembered. A score of ships had been destroyed utterly above thegraveyard of dreadnoughts, yet only one aero-sub, and that quite bychance, had been marked off in the casualty column. 

Death rode the heavens as the American flyers went into action. Forhead-on fights, flyers went in at top speed, their planes whirling onthe axes of fuselages, all guns going. Planes were armored against theirown bullets, and they were not under the necessity of watching to seethat they did not slay their own friends. 

Even so, bullets were rather ineffective against the aero-subs, whoseapparently flimsy, almost transparent outer covering diverted thebullets with amazing ease. 

A whirling maelstrom of ships. The monsters of Moyen had drawn firstblood, if the expression may be used in an action where no blood at allwas drawn, but machines and men simply erased from existence. 

Hundreds of planes already gone when the second flight of ships closedwith the aero-subs. Yellow streaks of death flashed from aero-subnostrils, but even as aero-sub operators set their rays into motion theAmerican flyers in head-on charge rolled, dived or zoomed, and kepttheir guns going. 

High above the first flight of aero-subs, behind which another flightwas winging swiftly into action, American flyers tilted the noses oftheir planes over and dived under full power--to sure death by suicide, though none knew it there at the moment. 

 * * * * *

These aero-subs could not be driven from the sky by usual means, andcould destroy American ships even before those planes could come tohandgrips; but they, the flyers plainly believed, could be crashed outof the sky and so, never guessing what besides death in resultingcrashes they faced, the flyers above the aero-subs, even as aero-subs inrear flashed in to prevent, dived down straight at the backs of theaero-subs. 

In a hundred places the dives of the Americans worked successfully, andAmerican planes crashed full and true, full power on, into the backs ofthe "flying fish. " In some aero-subs the container of the Moyen-dealingagency apparently remained untouched, and airplanes and aero-subs, welded together, plunged down the invisible skylanes into the sea. 

Under water, some of the aero-subs were seen to keep in motion, limpingtoward the nearest mother submarines. 

"I hope, " said Prester Kleig, "the American flyers in such cases arealready dead, for Moyen will be a maniac in his tortures. Munson, do youhurriedly examine the mother-subs and see if you can locate Moyen. "

 * * * * *

However, only a scattered aero-sub here and there went down without thestrange substance of the yellow ray being released. In most cases, uponthe contact of plane with aero-sub, the aero-subs and planes wereinstantly blotted from view by the yellow, golden flames from the heartof the winged harbingers of Moyen. 

Golden flames, blinding in their brightness, dropping down, mereshapeless blotches, then fading out to nothingness in a matter ofseconds--with aero-sub and airplane totally erased from action and fromexistence. 

The American flyers saw and knew now the manner of death they faced. Yetall along the battle front not an American tried to evade the issue anddraw out of the fight. A sublime, inspiring exhibition of mass couragewhich had not been witnessed down the years since that generalengagement which men of the time had called the Great War. 

Prester Kleig turned to look at Maniel. Drops of perspiration bathed thecheeks of the master scientist, but his eyes were glowing like coals offire. His face was set in a white mask of concentration, and PresterKleig knew that Maniel would find the answer to the thing he sought ifsuch answer could be found. 

Would the American flyers be able to hold off the minions of Moyen untilManiel was ready? The fight out there above the waters was a terriblething, and the Americans fought and died like men inspired, yetinexorably the winged armada of Moyen, preceded by those licking goldentongues, was moving landward. 

"Great God!" cried Munson. "Look!"

 * * * * *

There was really no need for the order, for every Secret Agent saw assoon as did Munson. Under the sea, just off the coast, the mother-subshad touched their blunt nose against the upward shelving of the seabottom--had touched bottom, and were slowly but surely following theunderwater curve of the land, up toward the surface, like unbelievableantediluvian monsters out of some nightmare. 

"Yes, " said Kleig quietly, "those monsters of Moyen can move on land, and the aero-subs can operate from them as easily on land as underwater. "

Kleig regarded the time, whirled to look at Professor Maniel. 

One hour and forty minutes had passed since Maniel had begged for twohours in which to prepare some mode of effectively combatting the mightof Moyen. Twenty minutes to go; yet the mother-subs would be ashore, dragging their sweating, monstrous sides out of the deep, within tenminutes!

Ten minutes ashore and there was no guessing the havoc they could causeto the United Americas!

"Hurry, Maniel! Hurry! Hurry!" said Prester Kleig. 

But he spoke the words to himself, though even had he spoken them aloudManiel would not have heard. For Maniel, for two hours, had closed hismind to everything that transpired outside his own thoughts, devoted tofoiling the power of Moyen. 

"I've found him!" snapped Munson. 

 * * * * *

He pointed with a shaking forefinger to one of the mother-subs crawlingup the slant of the ocean bed, twisted one of the little nubs of theSound-and-Vision apparatus, and the angelic face and Satanic eyes, thetwisted body, of Moyen came into view. 

The face was calm with dreadful purpose, and Moyen stood in the heart ofone of his monsters, his eyes turned toward the land. With a gasp ofterror, dreadfully afraid for the first time, Prester Kleig turned andlooked into the eyes of Charmion. .. . 

"No, " she said. "It will never happen. I have faith in you!"

There were still ten minutes of the two hours left when the mother-subsbroke water and started crawling inland, swiftly, surely, withoutfaltering in the slightest as they changed their element from water toland. 

As though their appearance had been the signal, the aero-subs in actionagainst the first line of American planes broke out of the one-sidedfight and dived for their mother ships, while a mere handful of theAmerican planes started back for home to prepare anew to continue thestruggle. 

Prester Kleig gave the signal to the second monster armada which hadremained in reserve. 

"Do everything in your power to halt the march of Moyen's amphibians!"

Ten minutes to go, and Professor Maniel still labored like a Titan. 

CHAPTER XI

_Caucasia Falls Silent_

As the scores of amphibian monsters came lumbering forth upon dry landit became instantly apparent why the aero-subs had returned to themother ships. For a few moments, out of the water, the amphibians werealmost helpless, with practically no way of attack or defense--ashelpless as huge turtles turned legs up. 

But as each aero-sub entered its proper slot in the side of the motheramphibian, it was turned about and the nose thrust back into theopening, which closed down to fit tightly about the nose of theaero-sub, so that those flame-breathing monsters protruded from thesides of the amphibians in many places--transforming the amphibians intomonsters with hundreds of golden, licking tongues!

As, with each and every aero-sub in place, the amphibians started movinginland, Professor Maniel made his first move. With the tiny apparatusupon which he had been working, he stepped to the table before theSound-and-Vision apparatus and spoke softly to his compatriots. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, "I have finished, and it will work effectively!"

Though Maniel spoke softly, it was plain to be seen that he was proud ofhis accomplishment, which remained only to be attached to startperformance. 

A matter of seconds. .. . 

Yet during those seconds was the real might, the real power for utterdevastation, of Moyen fully exposed!

 * * * * *

The amphibians got under way as the airplanes of the Americas swept intothe fight. 

From the sides of the monsters licked out those golden tongues offlame--and from the front. 

Half a dozen amphibians slipped into New York from the harbor side andstarted into the heart of the city. And between the time when Maniel hadsaid he was ready and the moment when he made his first active moveagainst Moyen, a half-dozen skyscrapers vanished into nothingness, thespots where they had stood swept as clear of debris as though the landhad never been reclaimed from Nature!

None was ever destined to know how many lives were lost in that firstattack of the monsters of the golden, myriad tongues; but the monstersstruck in the midst of a working day when the skyscrapers were filledwith office workers. 

And resolve struck deep into the hearts of the Secret Agents: if Moyenwere turned back, he must be made to pay for the slaughter. 

A matter of seconds. .. . 

 * * * * *

Then a moment of deathly silence as Munson gave way at the screen forthe gnomelike little Professor Maniel. 

"Now, gentlemen!" snapped Maniel. "If my theory is correct, "manipulating instruments with lightning speed as he talked, "thereversion of the principle of my Vibration-Retarder--which capturesvibrations speeding outward from the earth and transforms them onceagain into sound and pictures audible and visible to the human ear--thisapparatus will disintegrate the monsters as our boats and planes weredisintegrated!

"In this I have even been compelled to manipulate in the matter oftime! I must not only defeat and annihilate the minions of Moyen, butmust work from a mathematical absurdity, so that at the moment of impactthat moment itself must become part of the past, sufficiently remote toremove the monsters at such distance from the earth that not even themighty genius of Moyen can return them!"

The whirring, gentle as the whirring of doves' wings. In the center ofthe picture on the screen were those half-dozen amphibians laying wasteManhattan. Maniel set his intricate, delicate machinery into motion. 

Instantly the amphibians there seemed to become misty, shadowy, and tolift out of Manhattan up above the roof-tops of skyscrapers stillremaining, nebulous and wraithlike as ghost-shrouds--yet swingingoutward from the earth with speed almost too swift for the eye todetect. 

But where the amphibians had rested there stood, reclined--in all sortsof postures, surprising and even a bit ridiculous--the men of Moyen whohad operated the monsters of Moyen!

 * * * * *

From the Central Radio tower went forth a mighty voice of command to theplanes which had been engaging the aero-subs off the coast. 

"Slay! Slay!"

Down flashed the planes of the Americas, and their guns were blazing, inaudibly, but none the less deadly of aim and of purpose, straight intothe midst of the men of Moyen who had thus been left marooned and almosthelpless with the vanishing of their amphibians. 

And, noting how they fell in strangled, huddled heaps before thevengeful fire of the American planes, the Secret Agents sighed, andManiel, his face alight with the pride of accomplishment, switched toanother point along the coast. 

And as a new group of the monsters of Moyen came into view, and Manielbent to his labors afresh, the hated voice of the master mobster brokeonce more in the Secret Room. 

"Enough, Kleig! Enough! We will surrender to save lives! I stipulateonly that my own life be spared!"

To which Prester Kleig made instant reply. 

"Did you offer us choice of surrender? Did you spare the lives of ourpeople which, with your control of your golden rays, you could easilyhave done? No! Nor will we spare lives, least of all the life of Moyen!"

The whirring again, as of the whirring of doves' wings. More metalmonsters, even as golden tongues spewed forth from their many sides, vanished from view, leaping skyward, while the operators of them wereleft to the mercies of the remaining airmen of the Americans. 

 * * * * *

Voicelessly the word went forth:

"Slay! Slay!"

It was Charmion who begged for mercy for the vanquished as, one by one, as surely as fate, the monsters with their contained aero-subs wereblotted out, leaving pilots and operators behind them. Down upon thesedropped the airmen of the West, slaying without mercy. .. . 

"Please, lover!" Charmion whispered. "Spare them!"

"Even. .. ?" he began, thinking of Moyen, who would have taken Charmion. He felt her shudder as she read his mind, understood what he would haveasked. 

"There he is!" came softly from Munson. 

An amphibian had just been disintegrated, had just climbed mistily, swiftly, into invisibility in the skies. And there in the midst of theconquerors left behind, his angel's face set in a moody mask, his paleeyes awful with fear, his misshapen body sagging, terrible in itsrealization of failure, was Moyen!

Even as Kleig prepared to give the mercy signal, a plane dived down onthe group about Moyen, and the Secret Agents could see the hand of thepilot, lifted high, as though he signaled. 

The plane was a Mayther! The pilot was Carlos Kane!

 * * * * *

Just as Kane went into action, and the noiseless bullets from his shipcrashed into that twisted body, causing it to jump and twitch with themight of them, Prester Kleig gave the signal. 

Even as the figure of Moyen crashed to the soil and the man's soulquitted its mortal casement, Kleig commanded:

"Spare all who surrender! Make them prisoners, to be used to repair thedamage they have done to our country! Guards will be instantly placedover the amphibians and the aero-subs--for the day may come when weshall need to know their secrets!"

And, as men, hands lifted high in token of surrender, quitted the nowmotionless amphibians, and flyers dropped down to make them prisoners, Maniel sighed, pressed various buttons on his apparatus, and the madscene of carnage they had witnessed for hours faded slowly out, anddarkness and silence filled the Secret Room. 

But darkness is the joy of lovers, and in the midst of silence that wasalmost appalling by contrast, Kleig and Charmion were received into eachother's arms. 

 +---------------------------+ | Everyone Is Invited | | _To "Come Over in_ | | 'THE READERS' CORNER'"! | +---------------------------+

Vampires of Venus

_By Anthony Pelcher_

[Illustration: _He seized a short knife and threw himself forward. _]

 Leslie Larner, an entomologist borrowed from the Earth, pits himself against the night-flying vampires that are ravaging the inhabitants of Venus. 

It was as if someone had thrown a bomb into a Quaker meeting, whenadventure suddenly began to crowd itself into the life of the studiousand methodical Leslie Larner, professor of entomology. 

Fame had been his since early manhood, when he began to distinguishhimself in several sciences, but the adventure and thrills he had longedfor had always fallen to the lot of others. 

His father, a college professor, had left him a good working brain andnothing else. Later his mother died and he was left with no relatives inthe world, so far as he knew. So he gave his life over to study and hardwork. 

Still youthful at twenty-five, he was hoping that fate would "give hima break. " It did. 

He was in charge of a Government department having to do with Orientalbeetles, Hessian flies, boll weevils and such, and it seemed his lifehad been just one bug after another. He took creeping, crawling thingsseriously and believed that, unless curbed, insects would some day crowdman off the earth. He sounded an alarm, but humanity was not disturbed. So Leslie Larner fell back on his microscope and concerned himself withsaving cotton, wheat and other crops. His only diversion was fishing forthe elusive rainbow trout. 

He managed to spend a month each year in the Colorado Rockies anglingfor speckled beauties. 

Larner was anything but a clock-watcher, but on a certain bright day inJune he was seated in his laboratory doing just that. 

"Just five minutes to go, " he mused. 

It was just 4:25 P. M. He had finished his work, put his affairs inorder, and in five minutes would be free to leave on a much needed andwell earned vacation. His bags were packed and at the station. Hisfishing tackle, the pride of his young life, was neatly rolled in oiledsilk and stood near at hand. 

"I'll just fill my calabash, take one more quiet smoke, and then for themountains and freedom, " he told himself. He settled back with his feeton his desk. He half closed his eyes in solid comfort. Then the bombfell and exploded. 

 * * * * *

B-r-r-r-r!

The buzzer on his desk buzzed and his feet came off the desk and hit thefloor with a thud. His eyes popped open and the calabash was immediatelylaid aside. 

That buzzer usually meant business, and it would be his usual luck tohave trouble crash in on him just as he was on the edge of a rainbowtrout paradise. 

A messenger was ushered into the room by an assistant. The boy handedhim an envelope, said, "No answer, " and departed. 

Larner tore open the envelope lazily. He read and then re-read itscontents, while a look of puzzled surprise disturbed his usually placidcountenance. He spread the sheet of paper out on his desk, and for thetenth time he read:

 Confidential. 

 Memorize this address and destroy this paper:

 Tula Bela, 1726 88th Street, West, City of Hesper, Republic of Pana, Planet Venus. 

 Will meet you in the Frying Pan. 

That was all. It was enough. Larner lost his temper. He crumpled thepaper and tossed it in the waste basket. He was not given to profanity, but he could say "Judas Priest" in a way that sizzled. 

"Judas Priest!" he spluttered. "Anyone who would send a man a crazybunch of nonsense like that, at a time like this, ought to be snuffedout like a beetle!

"'Meet you in the Frying Pan, '" he quoted. Then he happened to recallsomething. "By golly, there is a fishing district in Colorado known asthe Frying Pan. That's not so crazy, but the planet Venus part surely iscuckoo. "

He fished the paper out of the waste basket, found the envelope, placedthe strange message within and put it in his inside coat pocket. Then heseized his suitcase and fishing tackle, and, rushing out, hailed a taxi. Not long after he was on his way west by plane. 

 * * * * *

As the country unrolled under him he retrieved the strange note from hispocket. He read it again and again. Then he examined the envelope. Itwas an ordinary one of good quality, designed for business rather thansocial usage. The note paper appeared quite different. It was unruled, pure white, and of a texture which might be described as pebbly. It wasstrongly made, and of a nature unlike any paper Larner had ever seenbefore. It appeared to have been made from a fiber rather than a pulp. 

"Wonder who wrote it?" Larner asked himself. "It is beautifulhandwriting, masculine yet artistic. Wonder where he got the Frying Panidea? At any rate, I'm not going to the Frying Pan this year--I'mcamping on Tennessee Creek, in Lake County, Colorado. The country thereis more beautiful and restful. 

"But this street address on the planet Venus. Seems to me I readsomewhere that Marconi had received mysterious signals that he believedcame from the planet Venus. Hesper, Hesper . .. It sounds familiar, somehow. Wonder if there could be anything to it?"

Something impelled him to follow out the instructions in the note. Hespent the next few hours repeating the address over and over again. Whenhe was satisfied that he had memorized it thoroughly, he tore thestrange paper into bits and sent it fluttering earthward like a tinysnowstorm. 

Larner was not a gullible individual, but neither was he unimaginative. He was scientist enough to know that "the impossibilities of to-day arethe accomplishments of to-morrow. " So while not convinced that the notewas a serious communication, still his mind was open. 

The weird address insisted on creeping into his mind and driving outother thoughts, even those of his speckled playfellows, the rainbowtrout. 

"I've a notion to change my plans and go from Denver to the Frying Pan, "he cogitated. Then he thought, "No, I won't take it that seriously. "

 * * * * *

Anyone who knows the Colorado Rockies knows paradise. There is no morebeautiful country on the globe. Lake County, where Larner had chosenhis fishing grounds, has as its seat the old mining camp of Leadville. It has been visited and settled more for its gold mines than the goldenglow of its sunsets above the clouds, but the gold of the sunsets iseternal, while the gold of the mines is fading quickly away. 

Leadville, with its 5, 000 inhabitants, nestles above the clouds, at analtitude of more than 10, 000 feet. Mount Massive with its three peakslies back of the town in panorama and rises to a height of some 14, 400feet. In the rugged mountains thereabouts are hundreds of lakes fed bywild streams and bubbling crystal springs. All these lakes are above theclouds. 

Winter sees the whole picture decorated with bizarre snowdrifts fromtwenty to forty feet deep, but spring comes early. The beautifulcolumbines and crocuses bloom before the snow is all off the ground inthe valleys. The lands up to 12, 000 feet altitude are carpeted with alight green grass and moss. Giant pines and dainty aspens, with theirsilvery bark and pinkish leaves blossom forth and whisper, while theeternal snows still linger in the higher rocky cliffs and peaks above. 

Indian-paint blooms its blood red in contrast to the milder colorings. Blackbirds and bluebirds chatter and chipmunks chirp. The gold so hardto find in the mines glares from the skies. The hills cuddle in banks ofsnowy clouds, and above all a pure clear blue sky sweeps. The lakes andstreams abound with rainbow trout, the gamest of any fresh water fish. It is indeed a paradise for either poet or sportsman. 

In any direction near to Leadville a man can find Heaven and recreationand rest. 

Finding himself on Harrison Avenue, the main street of the county seat, Larner, after renewing some old acquaintanceships, started west in aflivver for Tennessee Creek. The flivver is a modern adjustment. Untila few years ago the only means of traversing these same hills was bypatient, sure-footed donkeys, which carried the pack while the wayfarerwalked along beside. 

 * * * * *

The first day's fishing was good. Trout seemed to greet him cheerily andsprang eagerly to the fray. They bit at any sort of silken fly he cast. 

The site chosen by Larner for his camp was in a mossy clearing separatedfrom the stream by a fringe of willows along the creek. Then came aborder of aspens backed by a forest of silver-tipped firs. 

It was ideal and his eyes swept the scene with satisfaction. Then hebegan whittling bacon to grease his pan for frying trout over the openfire. 

Suddenly he heard a rustle in the aspens, and, looking up, beheld apicture which made his eyes bulge. A man and a woman, garbed seeminglyin the costumes of another world, walked toward him. Neither were morethan five feet tall but were physically perfect, and marvelouslypleasing to the eye. There was little difference in their dress. 

Both wore helmets studded with what Larner believed to be sapphires. Helearned later they were diamonds. Their clothing consisted of tighttrouserlike garments surmounted by tunics of some white pelt resemblingchamois save for color. A belt studded with precious stones encircledtheir waists. Artistic laced sandals graced their small firm feet. 

Their skin was a pinkish white. Their every feature was perfection plus, and their bodies curved just enough wherever a curve should be. Thewoman was daintier and more fully developed, and her features were evenmore finely chiseled than the man. Otherwise it would have beendifficult to distinguish their sex. 

Larner took in these details subconsciously, for he was awed beyondexpression. All he could do was to stand seemingly frozen, half bentover the campfire with his frying pan in his hand. 

 * * * * *

The man spoke. 

"I hope we did not startle you, " he said. "I thought my note wouldpartly prepare you for this meeting. We expected to find you in theFrying Pan district. When you did not appear there we tuned our radiolocator to your heart beats and in that way located you here. It washardly a second's space-flying time from where we were. "

Larner said nothing. He could only stand and gape. 

"I do not wonder that you are surprised, " said the strange little man. "I will explain that I am Nern Bela, of the City of Hesper, on theplanet Venus. This is my sister Tula. We greet you in the interest ofthe Republic of Pana, which embraces all of the planet you know asVenus. "

When Larner recovered his breath, he lost his temper. 

"I don't know what circus you escaped from, but I crave solitude and Ihave no time to be bothered with fairy tales, " he said with brutalbruskness. 

Expressions of hurt surprise swept the countenances of his visitors. 

The man spoke again:

"We are just what we assert we are, and our finding you was madenecessary by a condition which grieves the souls of all the 900, 000, 000inhabitants of Venus. We have come to plead with you to come with us anduse your scientific knowledge to thwart a scourge which threatens thelives of millions of people. "

There was a quiet dignity about the man and an air of pride about thewoman which made Larner stop and think, or try to. He rubbed his handover his brow and looked questioningly at the pair. 

"If you are what you say you are, how did you get here?" he asked. 

"We came in a targo, a space-flying ship, capable of doing 426, 000 milesan hour. This is just 1200 times as fast as 355 miles an hour, thehighest speed known on earth. Come with us and we will show you ourship. " They looked at him appealingly, and both smiled a smile ofwistful friendliness. 

Larner, without a word, threw down his frying pan and followed themthrough the aspens. The brother and sister walking ahead of him gave hiseyes a treat. He surveyed the perfect form of the girl. Her perfectionwas beyond his ken. 

"They certainly are not of this world, " he mused. 

 * * * * *

A few hundred yards farther on there was a beach of pebbles, where thestream had changed its course. On this plot sat a gigantic sphericalmachine of a glasslike material. It was about 300 feet in diameter andit was tapered on two sides into tees which Larner rightly took to belights. 

"This is a targo, our type of space-flyer, " said Nern Bela. "It iscapable of making two trips a year between Venus and the earth. We havevisited this planet often, always landing in some mountain or junglefastness as heretofore we did not desire earth-dwellers to know of ourpresence. "

"Why not?" asked Larner, his mouth agape and his eyes protruding. Hismind was so full of questions that he fairly blurted his first one. 

"Because, " said Bela, slowly and frankly, "because our race knows nosickness and we feared contagion, as your race has not yet learned tocontrol its being. "

"Oh, " said Lamer thoughtfully. He realized that humans of the earth, whom he had always regarded as God's most perfect beings, were not soperfect after all. 

"How do you people control your being, as you express it?" he asked. 

"It is simple, " was the reply. "For ninety centuries we have ceased tobreed imperfection, crime and disease. We deprived no one of thepleasures of life, but only the most perfect mental and physicalspecimens of our people cared to have children. In other words, while wemake no claim to controlling our sex habits, we do control results. "

"Oh, " said Larner again. 

Nern Bela led the way to a door which opened into the side of thespace-flyer near its base. "We have a crew of four men and four women, "he said. "They handle the entire ship, with my sister and I in command, making six souls aboard in all. "

"Why men and women?" thought Larner. 

As if in answer to his thought Bela said:

"On the earth the two sexes have struggled for sex supremacy. This hasthrown your civilization out of balance. On Venus we have struggled forsex equality and have accomplished it. This is a perfect balance. Manand women engage in all endeavor and share all favors and rewardsalike. "

"In war, too?" asked Larner. 

"There has not been war on Venus for 600, 000 years, " said Bela. "Thereis only the one nation, and the people all live in perfect accord. Ouronly trouble in centuries is a dire peril which now threatens ourpeople, and it is of this that I wish to talk to you more at length. "

 * * * * *

They were standing close to the targo. Larner was struck by the peculiarmaterial of which it was constructed. There was a question in his eyes, and Nern Bela answered it:

"The metal is duranium; it is metalized quartz. It is frictionless, conducts no current or ray except repulsion and attraction ray NTR69X6by which it is propelled. It is practically transparent, lighter thanair and harder than a diamond. It is cast in moulds after being meltedor, rather, fused. 

"We use cold light which we produce by forcing oxygen through air tubesinto a vat filled with the fat of a deep sea fish resembling your whale. You are aware, of course, that that is exactly how cold light isproduced by the firefly, except for the fact that the firefly uses hisown fat. "

Larner was positively fascinated. He smoothed the metal of the targo inappreciation of its marvelous construction, but he longed most to seethe curious light giving mechanism, for this was closer to his own lineof entomology. He had always believed that the light giving organs offireflys and deep-sea fishes could be reproduced mechanically. 

The interior of the ship resembled in a vague way that of an oceanliner. It was controlled by an instrument board at which a man and agirl sat. They did not raise their heads as the three people entered. 

When called by Bela and his sister, who seemed to give commands inunison, the crew assembled and were presented to the visitor. 

"Earth-dwellers are not the curiosity to us that we seem to be to you, "said Tula Bela, speaking for the first time and smiling sweetly. 

Larner was too engrossed to note the remark further than to nod hishead. He was lost in contemplation of these strange people, all garbedexactly alike and all surpassingly lovely to look upon. 

 * * * * *

An odor of food wafted from the galley, and Larner remembered he washungry, with the hunger of health. He had swung his basket of fish overhis shoulder when he left his campfire, and Tula took it from him. 

"Would you like to have our chef prepare them for you?" she said, as shecaught his hungry glance at his day's catch. This time Larner answeredher. 

"If you will pardon me, " he said awkwardly. "Really I am famished. "

"You will not miss your fish dinner, " said the girl. 

"I believe there is enough for all of us, " said Larner. "I caught twentybeauties. I never knew fish to bite like that. Why, they--" and he wasoff on a voluminous discourse on a favorite subject. 

Those assembled listened sympathetically. Then Tula took the fish, andsoon the aroma of broiling trout mingled with the other entrancinggalley odors. 

After a dinner at which some weird yet satisfying viands were served andmuch unusual conversation indulged in, Nern Bela led the way to whatappeared to be the captain's quarters. The crew and their visitor satdown to discuss a subject which proved to be of such a terrifying natureas to scar human souls. 

"People on Venus, " said Nern, as his eyes took on a worried expression, "are unable to leave their homes after nightfall due to some strangenocturnal beast which attacks them and vampirishly drains all blood fromtheir veins, leaving the dead bodies limp and empty. "

"What? How?" questioned Larner leaning far forward over the conferencetable. 

The others nodded their heads, and in the eyes of the women there wasterror. Larner could not but believe this. 

"The beasts, or should I say insects, are as large as your horses andthey fly, actually fly, by night, striking down humans, domestic animalsand all creatures of warm blood. How many there are we have no means ofknowing, and we cannot find their hiding and breeding places. They arenot native to our planet, and where they come from we cannot imagine. They are actually monstrous flys, or bugs, or some form of insects. "

 * * * * *

Larner was overcome by incredulity and showed it. "Insects as big ashorses?" he questioned and he could hardly suppress a smile. 

"Believe us, in the name of the God of us all, " insisted Nern. "Theyhave a mouth which consists of a large suction disk, in the center ofwhich is a lancelike tongue. The lance is forced into the body at anyconvenient point, and the suction disk drains out the blood. If we onlyknew their source! They attack young children and the aged, up to fivehundred years, alike. "

"What! Five hundred years?" exploded Larner again. 

"I should have explained, " said Nern, simply, "that Venus dwellers, dueto our advanced knowledge of sanitation and health conversation, liveabout 800 years and then die invariably of old age. The only unnaturalcause of death encountered is this giant insect. Accidents do occur, butthey are rare. There are no deliberate killings on Venus. "

Larner did not answer. He only pondered. The more he ran over thestrange happenings of the last week in his mind the more he believed hewas dreaming. His thoughts took a strange turn: "Why do these vainpeople go around dressed in jeweled ornaments?"

Nern again anticipated a question. "Diamonds, gold and many of what youcall precious stones are common on Venus, " he volunteered. "Talc andmany other things are more valuable. "

"Talc?"

"Yes, we use an immense quantity of it. We have a wood that is harderthan your steel. We build machinery with it. We cannot use oil tolubricate these wooden shafts and bearings as it softens the wood, soall parts exposed to friction are sprayed constantly by a gust of talcfrom a blower. 

"You use talc mostly for toilet purposes. We use it for variouspurposes. There is little left on Venus, and it is more valuable to usthan either gold or diamonds. We draw on your planet now for talc. Youdump immense quantities. We just shipped one hundred 1, 000-ton globes ofit from the Cripple Creek district, and the district never missed it. Wedrew most of it from your mine dumps. "

 * * * * *

Nern tried not to look bored as he explained more in detail: "We brought100 hollow spheres constructed of duranium. We suspended these over theCripple Creek district at an altitude of 10, 000 feet above the earth'ssurface. Because of the crystal glint of duranium they were invisible toearth dwellers at that height. Then we used a suction draft at night, drawing the talc from the earth, filling one drum after another. This isdone by tuning in a certain selective attraction that attracts onlytalc. It draws it right out of your ground in tiny particles andassembles it in the transportation drums as pure talc. On the earth, ifnoticed at all, it would have been called a dust storm. 

"The drums, when loaded with talc, are set to attract the properplanetary force and they go speeding toward Venus at the rate of 426, 000miles an hour. They are prevented from colliding with meteors by anautomatic magnetic device. This is controlled by magnetic force alone, and when the targo gets too close to a meteor it changes its courseinstantly. The passenger targo we ride in acts similarly. And now may Ireturn to the subject of the vampires of Venus?"

"Pardon my ignorance, " said Larner, and for the first time in his lifehe felt very ignorant indeed. 

"I know little more than I have told you, " said Nern, rather hopelessly. "Our knowledge of your world, your people and your language comes fromour listening in on you and observing you without being observed orheard. This might seem like taking an advantage of you, were it not forthe fact that we respect confidences, and subjugate all else to science. We have helped you at times, by telepathically suggesting ideas to yourthinkers. 

"We would have given you all our inventions in this way, gladly, but inmany instances we were unable to find minds attuned to accept suchadvanced ideas. We have had the advantage of you because our planet isso many millions of years older than your own. " There was a plaintivenote in Nern's voice as he talked. 

 * * * * *

"But now we are on our knees to you, so to speak. We do not knoweverything and, desperately, we need the aid of a man of your caliber. In behalf of the distraught people of Venus, I am asking you bluntly tomake a great sacrifice. Will you face the dangers of a trip to Venus anduse your knowledge to aid us in exterminating these creatures of hell?"There was positive pleading in his voice, and in the eyes of hisbeautiful sister there were tears. 

"But what would my superiors in the Government Bureau think?" feeblyprotested Larner, "I could not explain. .. . "

"You have no superiors in your line. Our Government needs you at thistime more than any earthly government. Your place here is a fixture. Youcan always return to it, should you live. We are asking you to face ahorrible death with us. You can name your own compensation, but I knowyou are not interested so much in reward. 

"Now, honestly, my good professor, there is no advantage to be gained byexplanation. Just disappear. In the name of God and in the interests ofscience and the salvation of a people who are at your mercy, just dropout of sight. Drop out of life on this planet. Come with us. The causeis worthy of the man I believe you to be. "

"I will go, " said Larner, and his hosts waited for no more. An instantlater the targo shot out into interstellar space. 

"How do you know what course to follow?" asked Larner after a reasonabletime, when he had recovered from his surprise at the sudden take-off. 

"We do not need to know. Our machine is tuned to be attracted by theplanetary force of Venus alone. We could not go elsewhere. A repulsionray finds us as we near Venus and protects us against too violent alanding. We will land on Venus like a feather about three months fromto-night. "

The time of the journey through outer space was of little moment savefor one incident. Larner and the other travelers were suddenly andrather rudely jostled about the rapidly flying craft. 

Larner lost his breath but not his speech. "What happened?" he inquired. 

"We just automatically dodged a meteor, " explained Nern. 

 * * * * *

Most of the time of the trip was spent by Larner in listening toexplanations of customs and traditions of the people of the brightestplanet in the universe. 

There was a question Larner had desired to ask Nern Bela, yet hehesitated to do so. Finally one evening during the journey to Venus, when the travelers had been occupying themselves in a scientificdiscussion of comparative evolution on the two planets, Larner saw hisopportunity. 

"Why, " he asked rather hesitatingly, "did the people of Venus alwaysremain so small? Why did you not strive more for height? The Japanese, who are the shortest in stature of earth people, always wanted to betall. "

"Without meaning any offense, " replied Nern, "I must say that it ischaracteristic of earth dwellers to want something without knowing anygood reason why they want it. It is perfectly all right for you peopleto be tall, but for us it is not so fitting. You see, Venus is smallerthan the earth. Size is comparative. You think we are not tall becauseyou are used to taller people. Comparatively we are tall enough. Inproportion to the size of our planet we are exactly the right size. Wekeep our population at 900, 000, 000, and that is the perfectly exactnumber of people who can live comfortably on our planet. "

 * * * * *

Arriving on Venus, Larner was assigned a laboratory and office in one ofthe Government buildings. It was a world seemingly made of glass. Quartz, of rose, white and crystal coloring, Larner found, was thecommonest country rock of the planet. In many cases it was shot full ofsplinters of gold which the natives had not taken the trouble torecover. This quartz was of a terrific hardness and was used inbuilding, paving, and public works generally. The effect wasbewildering. It was a world of shimmering crystal. 

The atmosphere of Venus had long puzzled Larner. While not an astronomerin the largest sense of the word, yet he had a keen interest in theheavens as a giant puzzle picture, and he had given some spare time tothe study. 

He knew that from all indications Venus had a most unusual atmosphere. He had read that the atmosphere was considerably denser than that of theearth, and that its presence made observation difficult. The actualsurface of the planet he knew could hardly be seen due, either to thisatmosphere, or seemingly perpetual cloud banks. 

He had read that the presence of atmosphere surrounding Venus isindicated to earthly astronomers, during the planet's transit, by ringsof light due to the reflection and scattering of collected sunlight byits atmosphere. 

Astronomers on earth, he knew, had long been satisfied of the presenceof great cloud banks, as rocks and soils could not have such highreflecting power. He knew that like the moon, Venus, when viewed fromthe earth, presents different phases from the crescent to the full ortotal stage. 

Looking up at the sky from the quartz streets of Venus, Larner beheld, in sweeping grandeur, massed cloud banks, many of them apparently rainclouds. 

Nern noted his skyward gaze, and said:

"We have accomplished meteorological control. Those clouds were broughtunder control when we conquered interplanetary force, and what you callgravity. We form them and move them at will. They are our rain factory. We make rain when and where we will. This insures our crops and makesfor health and contentment. 

"The air, you will note, is about the same or a little more moist thanthe earth air at sea level. This is due to the planet's position nearerthe sun. 

"We have been striving for centuries to make the air a little drier andmore rare, but we have not succeeded yet. The heavy content ofdisintegrated quartz in our soil makes moisture very necessary for ourcrops, so our moist atmosphere is evidently a provision of providence. We are used to breathing this moist air, and when I first visited theearth I was made uncomfortable by your rarified atmosphere. Now I canadjust myself to breathing the air of either planet. However, I findmyself drinking a great deal more water on earth than on Venus. "

 * * * * *

In this fairyland which had enjoyed centuries of peace, health andaccord, stark terror now reigned. In some instances the finely-bred, marvellously intelligent people were in a mental condition bordering onmadness. 

This was especially true in the farming districts, where whole herds oflats had been wiped out. Lats, Larner gleaned, were a common farm animalsimilar to the bovine species on earth, only more wooly. On thesecreatures the Venus dwellers depended for their milk and dairy supplies, and for their warmer clothing, which was made from the skin. The hairwas used for brushes, in the building trades, and a thousand ways inmanufacturing. 

Besides the domestic animals hundreds of people continued to meet death, and only a few of the flying vampires had been hunted down. The giantinsects were believed to breed slowly as compared to earth insects, their females producing not more than ten eggs, by estimate, after whichdeath overtook the adult. In spite of this they were reported to beincreasing. 

In the Government building Larner was placed in touch with all theGovernment scientists of Venus. His nearest collaborator was one ZornZada, most profound scientist of the planet. The two men, with a scoreof assistants, worked elbow to elbow on the most gigantic scientificmystery in the history of two planets. 

A specimen of the dread invader was mounted and studied by thescientists, who were so engrossed in their work that they hardly tooktime to eat. As for sleep, there was little of it. Days were spent inresearch and nights in hunting the monsters. This hunting was done bynewly recruited soldiers and scientists. The weapons used were a shortray-gun of high destructive power which disintegrated the bodies of theenemies by atomic energy blasts. The quarry was wary, however, andstruck at isolated individuals rather than massed fighting lines. 

 * * * * *

Seated at his work-bench Larner asked Zorn Zada what had become of NernBela. In his heart he had a horrible lurking fear that the beautifulTula Bela might fall before a swarm of the strange vampires, but he didnot voice this anxiety. 

"Nern and his sister are explorers and navigators, " was the reply. "Theyhave been assigned to carry you anywhere on this or any other planetwhere your work may engage you. They await your orders. They are toovaluable as space-navigators to be placed in harm's way. "

Breathing a sigh of relief, Larner bent to his labors. 

"What other wild animals or harmful insects have you on this planet?" heasked Zorn. 

"I get your thought, " replied the first scientist of Venus. "You areseeking a natural enemy to this deadly flying menace, are you not?"

"Yes, " admitted Larner. 

"All insects left on Venus with this one exception are beneficial, " saidZorn. "There are no wild animals, and no harmful insects. All animals, insects and birds have been domesticated and are fed by their keepers. We get fabrics from forms of what you call spiders and otherweb-builders and cocoon spinners. All forms of birds, beasts andcrawling and flying things have been brought under the dominion of man. We will have to seek another way out than by finding an enemy parasite. "

"Where do you think these insect invaders came from?" asked Larner. 

"You have noticed they are unlike anything you have on earth inanatomical construction, " said the savant. "They partake of the generalfeatures of Coleoptera (beetles), in that they wear a sheath of armor, yet their mouth parts are more on the order of the Diptera (flys). Iregard them more as a fly than a beetle, because most Coleoptera arehelpful to humanity while practically all, if not all, Diptera aremalignant. 

"As to their original habitat, I believe they migrated here from someother planet. "

"They could not fly through space, " said Larner. 

"No, that is the mystery of it, " agreed Zorn. "How they got here andwhere they breed are the questions that we have to answer. "

 * * * * *

Long days passed on Venus. Long days and sleepless nights. The biginsects were hunted nightly by men armed with ray-guns, and nightly theblood-sucking monsters took their toll of humanity and animals. 

Finally Larner and Zorn determined to capture one of the insects alive, muzzle its lance and suction pad, and give it sufficient freedom to findits way back to its hiding place. By following the shackled monster thescientists hoped to find the breeding grounds. 

All the provinces of the planet joined in the drive. Men turned out inautomatic vehicles, propelled by energy gathered from the atmosphere. They came on foot and in aircraft. Mobilization was at given points and, leading the van, were Zorn and Larner and their confreres in the targoof Nern and Tula Bela. The great army of Venus carried giantsearchlights and was armed with deadly ray-guns. 

 * * * * *

Headquarters of the vast Army of Offense was in the targo of the Belas. Larner was in supreme command. Just before the big army set out to scourthe planet to seek the breeding place of the monsters Larner issued abulletin that set all Venus by the ears. 

Addressed to President Vole Vesta of the Republic of Pana and the goodpeople of Venus, it read:

 As is generally known, it has been the habit of the nation's space-flying merchantmen to visit the sunlit side of the planet Mercury to obtain certain rare woods and other materials not found on this planet. 

 One side of Mercury, as is known, is always turned from the sun and is in a condition of perpetual night. In this perpetual darkness and dampness, where many rivers flow into warm black swamps, the vampires have bred for centuries. Conditions were ideal for their growth, and so through the ages they evolved into the monsters we have encountered lately on Venus. 

 During some comparatively recent visit to Mercury the grubs of these insects have found their way abroad a vegetation-laden targo left standing near the edge of the black swamps of Mercury. These grubs were thus transported to Venus and underwent their natural metamorphosis here. Reaching adult stage, they have found some place to hide and breed, and thus is explained the origin of the vampires of Venus. 

This was widely read and discussed and was finally accepted as the meansof the invasion of peaceful, beautiful Venus by a horror that might wellhave originated in hell. 

However, this did not reveal the breeding grounds, or remove thenation-wide scourge of the horrible winged vampires, so the mobilizationof all the forces of the planet continued. 

 * * * * *

As day followed day the hordes of fighting Venus dwellers grew in theconcentration camps. In the targo of the Belas, Larner, brain-weary andbody-racked as he was with overwork, found a grain of happiness in beingin the presence of Nern and his beautiful, petite sister. 

With Zorn, Larner was supervising the construction of a big net ofstrongly woven wire mesh, in which it was hoped to catch one of thevampires. It was decided to bait the trap with a fat female lat. 

Zorn, Larner and the Belas fared forth from the concentration campfollowed by a company of soldiers carrying the big net. Tula with herown hand led the fat lat heifer. His eyes were filled with commiserationfor the poor animal. 

Thousands of soldiers and citizenry, in fighting array, watched thedeparture of the little group. 

In a glade the trap was set and the net arranged to fall over themonster once it attacked the calf. From a thicket, in utter darkness, Zorn and Larner and the two Belas waited for the possible catch. Thewhole nation stood awaiting the order to advance. 

On the fourth night the vigil was rewarded in a manner frightful torelate. 

A clumsy flutter of giant wings broke the stillness. 

The four waiting forms in the thicket rejoiced, believing the fat latwas about to be attacked. 

Onward came the approaching horror. The measured flap, flap of itsarmored wings drawing nearer and nearer. Then, horror--horrors!

A feminine scream rent the air. Cries loud and shrill arose above ahysterical feminine cry for help. 

The monster had chosen Tula Bela for its prey!

 * * * * *

Zorn exploded an alarm bomb. A compressed air siren brought the armyforward on the run. Giant floodlights began to light up the scene. Theblood of Larner and Nern froze. 

The monster had borne the girl to the ground. Its frightful lance andcupper was upraised to strike. Larner was the nearest and the quickestto act. He grabbed for his ray-gun, swung at his belt. It was gone! Inhorror he remembered he had left it at the base. He seized a short knifeand threw himself forward, rolling his body between that of the girl andthe descending lance and cupper. 

As the lance pierced his shoulder Larner, in one wild gesture of frenzy, drove his knife through the soft, yielding flesh of the vampire's organof suction. 

Protected by no bony structure the snout of the monster was amputated. 

The terrible creature had been disarmed of his most formidable weapon, but he continued to fight. Larner felt the spikes on the monster's legstear at his flesh. 

"Don't kill the thing, " he shouted. "Bring on the net. For the love ofGod bring on the net!" Then he lost consciousness. 

It was daylight when Larner, somewhat weakened from loss of blood, regained consciousness. 

The beautiful Tula Bela was leaning over him. 

She whispered comforting words to him in a language he did not fullyunderstand. She whispered happy exclamations in words he did not knowthe meaning of, but the tone was unmistakably those of a sweethearttowards her lover. 

Finally, in answer to a true scientist's question in his eyes, she saidin English:

"They caught the thing alive. They await your order to advance. "

"Let us be on our way, " said Larner, and he started to arise. 

"You are hardly strong enough, " said Tula. 

"Believe me, I am all right, " insisted Larner, and after several trialshe got to his feet. His constitution was naturally strong and his willwas stronger, so he fought back all feelings of weakness and soonannounced himself ready to go ahead with the project at hand. For speedwas all important, and the young professor found himself unable toremain inactive. 

 * * * * *

He rejoiced when Zorn told him that the big insect that had attackedTula Bela had been captured alive and had been kept well nourished bylat's blood injected into its stomach. 

With Zorn Larner went to inspect the hideous monstrosity and found it inleash and straining. It was ready to be used to lead the way back to itsbreeding place. 

Its wings shackled, the lumbering insect floundered on its way straightnorth. Ponderously and half blindly it crawled as the searchlights'glare was kept far enough in advance to keep from blinding the monster. 

True to instinct it finally brought up at early dawn under a high cliffof smoky quartz. Here, in the great crevices, the drove of diabolicalvampires were hiding. 

As the light struck their dens, they attempted clumsily to take wing, but a interlacing network of devastating disintegrating rays from theray-guns shattered their bodies to dust, which was borne away by thewind. 

The next few months were spent in combing the quartz crags of Venus forsimilar infested areas, but only the one breeding nest was found. Thescourge had been conquered in its first and only stronghold. 

 * * * * *

So ended the greatest reign of terror in the history of Venus. 

Leslie Larner was given a vote of thanks, and riches were showered uponhim by the good people of the sky's brightest star. 

His modesty was characteristic, and he insisted that his part in savinghumanity on the planet had been small. 

Passage back to earth was offered him, but Nern and Tula Bela urged himto say and live his life on Venus. This he finally agreed to do. 

"If I returned, " he said, "I would always be tempted to tell myexperiences while away, and there is not a jury in the world which wouldaccount me sane after I had once spoken. "

 * * * * *

That the story of Larner's adventure reached earth dwellers at all isdue to the fact that Nern Bela on a subsequent visit to the earthnarrated it to a Colorado quartz miner. This miner, a bronzed andbearded prospector for gold, stumbled on the targo in a mountainfastness, and there was nought to do but make him welcome and pledge himto secrecy. 

The miner surveyed the crystal targo in rapt wonderment and said: "Andto think I am the only earth man who ever viewed such a craft!"

"No, " answered Nern Bela, "there is one other. " And then the stirringstory of Leslie Larner's life on Venus was told. 

SAFE FLYING IN FOGS

The outstanding development in aviation recently, and one of the mostsignificant so far in aviation history was the "blind" flight of Lieut. James H. Doolittle, daredevil of the Army Air Corps, at Mitchel Field, L. I. , which led Harry P. Guggenheim, President of the Daniel GuggenheimFund for the Promotion of Aeronautics, Inc. To announce that the problemof fog-flying, one of aviation's greatest bugbears, had been solved atlast. 

There has been "blind flying" done in the past but never before in thehistory of aviation has any pilot taken off, circled, crossed, re-crossed the field, then landed only a short distance away from hisstarting point while flying under conditions resembling the densest fog, as Lieut. "Jimmy" Doolittle has done, in his Wright-motored "Husky"training-plane. It was something uncanny to contemplate. 

The "dense fog" was produced artificially by the simple device of makingthe cabin of the plane entirely light-proof. Once seated inside, theflyer, with his co-pilot, Lieut. Benjamin Kelsey, also of Mitchel Field, were completely shut off from any view of the world outside. All theyhad to depend on were three new flying instruments, developed during thepast year in experiments conducted over the full-flight laboratoryestablished by the Fund at Mitchel Field. 

The chief factors contributing to the solution of the problem of blindflying consist of a new application of the visual radio beacon, thedevelopment of an improved instrument for indicating the longitudinaland lateral position of an airplane, a new directional gyroscope, and asensitive barometric altimeter, so delicate as to measure the altitudeof an airplane within a few feet of the ground. 

Thus, instead of relying on the natural horizon for stability, Lieut. Doolittle uses an "artificial horizon" on the small instrument whichindicates longitudinal and lateral position in relation to the ground atall time. He was able to locate the landing field by means of thedirection-finding long-distance radio beacon. In addition, anothersmaller radio beacon had been installed, casting a beam fifteen totwenty miles in either direction, which governs the immediate approachto the field. 

To locate the landing field the pilot watches two vibrating reeds, tunedto the radio beacon, on a virtual radio receiver on his instrumentboard. If he turns to the right or left of his course the right or leftreed, respectively, begins doing a sort of St. Vitus dance. If the reedsare in equilibrium the pilot knows it is clear sailing straight to hisfield. 

The sensitive altimeter showed Lieut. Doolittle his altitude and made itpossible for him to calculate his landing to a distance of within a fewfeet from the ground. 

Probably the strangest device of all that Lieut. Doolittle has beencalled upon to test in Mr. Guggenheim's war against fog is a sort ofheat cannon that goes forth to combat like a fire-breathing dragon ofold. Like the enemies of the dragon, the fog is supposed to curl up anddie before the scorching breath of the "hot air artillery" although thefundamental principle behind the device is a great deal more scientificthan such an explanation sounds. It is, in brief, based on the knownfact that fog forms only in a very narrow temperature zone which liesbetween the saturation and precipitation points of the atmosphere. Ifthe air grows a little colder the fog turns into rain and falls; if itis warmed very slightly the mist disappears and the air is once morenormally clear, although its humidity is very close to the maximum. 

Brigands of the Moon

(The Book of Gregg Haljan)

PART TWO OF A FOUR-PART NOVEL

_By Ray Cummings_

[Illustration: _I turned back to look at the Planetara. _]

 Out of awful space tumbled the Space-ship _Planetara_ towards the Moon, her officers _dead_, with bandits at her helm--and the controls out of order!

My name, Gregg Haljan. My age, twenty-five years. My occupation, at thetime my narrative begins, in 2075, was third officer of theInterplanetary Space-ship _Planetara_. 

Thus I introduce myself to you. For this is a continuation of the bookof Gregg Haljan, and of necessity I am the chief actor therein. I shallrecapitulate very briefly what has happened so far:

Unscrupulous Martian brigands were scheming for Johnny Grantline'ssecret radium-ore treasure, dug out of the Moon and waiting there to bepicked up by the _Planetara_ on her return trip from Mars. 

The _Planetara_ left, bound for Mars, some ten days away. Suspiciousinterplanetary passengers were aboard: Miko and Moa, a brother and asister of Mars; Sir Arthur Coniston, a mysterious Englishman; Ob Hahn, aVenus mystic. And small, effeminate George Prince and his sister, Anita. Love, I think, was born instantly between Anita and me. I found all toosoon that Miko, the sinister giant from Mars, also desired her. 

[Illustration]

As we neared the Moon we received Grantline's secret message: "Stop forore on your return voyage. Success beyond wildest hopes!" But I soondiscovered that an eavesdropper in an invisible cloak had overheard it!

Soon afterwards Miko accidentally murdered a person identified as AnitaPrince. 

Then, in the confusion that resulted, Miko struck his great blow. Thecrew of the _Planetara_, secretly in his pay, rose up and killed thecaptain and all the officers but Snap Dean, the radio-helio operator, and myself. 

I was besieged in the chart-room. George Prince leaped in upon me--andput his arms around me. I looked at him closer--only to discover it wasAnita, disguised as her brother! It was her brother, George, who hadbeen killed! George had been in the brigands' confidence--thus Anita wasable to spy for us. 

Quickly we plotted. I would surrender to her, Anita Prince, whom thebrigands thought was George Prince. Together we might possibly be able, with Snap's help, to turn the tide, and reclaim the _Planetara_. 

I was taken to my stateroom and locked there until Miko the brigandleader should come to dispose of me. But I cared not what hadhappened--Anita was alive!

CHAPTER XIV

_The Brigand Leader_

The giant Miko stood confronting me. He slid my cubby door closed behindhim. He stood with his head towering close against my ceiling. His cloakwas discarded. In his leather clothes, and with his clankingsword-ornament, his aspect carried the swagger of a brigand of old. Hewas bareheaded; the light from one of my tubes fell upon his grinning, leering gray face. 

"So, Gregg Haljan? You have come to your senses at last. You do not wishme to write my name upon your chest? I would not have done that to Dean;he forced me. Sit back. "

I had been on my bunk. I sank back at the gesture of his huge hairy arm. His forearm was bare now; the sear of a burn on it was plain to be seen. He remarked my gaze. 

"True. You did that, Haljan, in Great-New York. But I bear you nomalice. I want to talk to you now. "

He cast about for a seat, and took the little stool which stood by mydesk. His hand held a small cylinder of the Martian paralyzing ray; herested it beside him on the desk. 

"Now we can talk. "

I remained silent. Alert. Yet my thoughts were whirling. Anita wasalive. Masquerading now as her brother. And, with the joy of it, came ashudder. Above everything, Miko must not know. 

"A great adventure we are upon, Haljan. "

 * * * * *

My thoughts came back. Miko was talking with an assumption of friendlycomradeship. "All is well--and we need you, as I have said before. I amno fool. I have been aware of everything that went on aboard this ship. You, of all the officers, are most clever at the routine mathematics. Isthat so?"

"Perhaps, " I said. 

"You are modest. " He fumbled at a pocket of his jacket, produced ascroll-sheaf. I recognized it: Blackstone's figures; the calculationBlackstone roughly made of the elements of the asteroid we had passed. 

"I am interested in these, " Miko went on. "I want you to verify them. And this. " He held up another scroll. "This is the calculation of ourpresent position. And our course. Hahn claims he is a navigator. We haveset the ship's gravity plates--see, like this--"

He handed me the scrolls; he watched me keenly as I glanced over them. 

"Well?" I said. 

"You are sparing of words, Haljan. By the devils of the airways, I couldmake you talk! But I want to be friendly. "

 * * * * *

I handed him back the scrolls. I stood up; I was almost within reach ofhis weapon, but with a sweep of his great arm he abruptly knocked meback to my bunk. 

"You dare?" Then he smiled. "Let us not come to blows!"

"No, " I said. I returned his smile. In truth, physical violence couldget me nothing in dealing with this fellow. I would have to try guile. And I saw now that his face was flushed and his eyes unnaturally bright. He had been drinking alcolite; not enough to befuddle him--but enough tomake him triumphantly talkative. 

"Hahn may not be much of a mathematician, " I suggested. "But there isyour Sir Arthur Coniston. " I managed a sarcastic grin. "Is that hisname?"

"Almost. Haljan, will you verify these figures?"

"Yes. But why? Where are we going?"

He laughed. "You are afraid I will not tell you! Why should I not? Thisgreat adventure of mine is progressing perfectly. A tremendous stake, Haljan. A hundred millions of dollars in gold-leaf; there will befabulous riches for us all, when that radium ore is sold for a hundredmillion in gold-leaf. "

"But where are we going?"

"To that asteroid, " he said abruptly. "I must get rid of thesepassengers. I am no murderer. "

 * * * * *

With half a dozen killings in the recent fight this was hardlyconvincing. But he was obviously wholly serious. He seemed to read mythoughts. 

"I kill only when necessary. We will land upon the asteroid. A perfectplace to maroon the passengers. Is it not so? I will give them thenecessities of life. They will be able to signal. And in a month or so, when we are safely finished with our adventure, a police ship no doubtwill rescue them. "

"And then, from the asteroid, " I suggested, "we are going--"

"To the Moon, Haljan. What a clever guesser you are! Coniston and Hahnare calculating our course. But I have no great confidence in them. Andso I want you. "

"You have me. "

"Yes. I have you. I would have killed you long ago--I am an impulsivefellow--but my sister restrained me. "

He gazed at me slyly. "Moa seems strangely to like you, Haljan. "

"Thanks, " I said. "I'm flattered. "

"She still hopes I may really win you to join us, " he went on. "Gold-leaf is a wonderful thing; there would be plenty for you in thisaffair. And to be rich, and have the love of a woman like Moa. .. . "

He paused. I was trying cautiously to gauge him, to get from him all theinformation I could. I said, with another smile, "That is premature, totalk of Moa. I will help you chart your course. But this venture, as youcall it, is dangerous. A police-ship--"

"There are not many, " he declared. "The chances of us encountering oneis very slim. " He grinned at me. "You know that as well as I do. And wenow have those code pass-words--I forced Dean to tell me where he hadhidden them. If we should be challenged, our pass-word answer willrelieve suspicion. "

"The _Planetara_, " I objected, "being overdue at Ferrok-Shahn, willcause alarm. You'll have a covey of patrol-ships after you. "

"That will be two weeks from now, " he smiled. "I have a ship of my ownin Ferrok-Shahn. It lies there waiting now, manned and armed. I amhoping that, with Dean's help, we may be able to flash it a signal. Itwill join us on the Moon. Fear not for the danger, Haljan. I have greatinterests allied with me in this thing. Plenty of money. We have plannedcarefully. "

 * * * * *

He was idly fingering his cylinder; his gaze roved me as I sat docile onmy bunk. "Did you think George Prince was a leader of this? A mere boy. I engaged him a year ago--his knowledge of ores is valuable. "

My heart was pounding, but I strove not to show it. He went on calmly. 

"I told you I am impulsive. Half a dozen times I have nearly killedGeorge Prince, and he knows it. " He frowned. "I wish I had killed him, instead of his sister. That was an error. "

There was a note of real concern in his voice. Did he love Anita Prince?It seemed so. 

He added, "That is done--nothing can change it. George Prince is helpfulto me. Your friend Dean is another. I had trouble with him, but he isdocile now. "

I said abruptly, "I don't know whether your promise means anything ornot, Miko. But George Prince said you would use no more torture. "

"I won't. Not if you and Dean obey me. "

"You tell Dean I have agreed to that. You say he gave you the code-wordswe took from Johnson?"

"Yes. There was a fool! That Johnson! You blame me, Haljan, for thekilling of Captain Carter? You need not. Johnson offered to try andcapture you. Take you alive. He killed Carter because he was angry athim. A stupid, vengeful fool! He is dead, and I am glad of it. "

 * * * * *

My mind was on Miko's plans. I ventured. "This treasure on the Moon--didyou say it was on the Moon?"

"Don't be an idiot, " he retorted. "I know as much about Grantline as youdo. "

"That's very little. "

"Perhaps. "

"Perhaps you know more, Miko. The Moon is a big place. Where, forinstance, is Grantline located?"

I held my breath. Would he tell me that? A score of questions--vagueplans--were in my mind. How skilled at mathematics were these brigands?Miko, Hahn, Coniston--could I fool them? If I could learn Grantline'slocation on the Moon, and keep the _Planetara_ away from it. A pretendederror of charting. Time lost--and perhaps Snap could find an opportunityto signal Earth, get help. 

Miko answered my question as bluntly as I asked it. "I don't know whereGrantline is located. But we will find out. He will not suspect the_Planetara_. When we get close to the Moon, we will signal and ask him. We can trick him into telling us. You think I do not know what is onyour mind, Haljan? There is a secret code of signals arranged betweenDean and Grantline. I have forced Dean to confess it. Without torture!Prince helped me in that. He persuaded Dean not to defy me. A verypersuasive fellow, George Prince. More diplomatic than I am, I give himcredit. "

I strove to hold my voice calm. "If I should join you, Miko--my word, ifI ever gave it, you would find dependable--I would say George Prince isvery valuable to us. You should rein your temper. He is half yoursize--you might some time, without intention do him injury. "

 * * * * *

He laughed. "Moa says so. But have no fear--"

"I was thinking, " I persisted, "I'd like to have a talk with GeorgePrince. "

Ah, my pounding, tumultuous heart! But I was smiling calmly. And Itried to put into my voice a shrewd note of cupidity. "I really knowvery little about this treasure, Miko. If there were a million or two ofgold-leaf in it for me--"

"Perhaps there would be. "

"I was thinking. Suppose you let me have a talk with Prince? I have someknowledge of radium ores. His skill and mine--a calculation of whatGrantline's treasure may really be. You don't know; you are onlyassuming. "

I paused. Whatever may have been in Miko's mind I cannot say. Butabruptly he stood up. I had left my bunk, but he waved me back. 

"Sit down. I am not like Moa. I would not trust you just because youprotested you would be loyal. " He picked up his cylinder. "We will talkagain. " He gestured to the scrolls he had left upon my desk. "Work onthose. I will judge you by the results. "

He was no fool, this brigand leader. 

"Yes, " I agreed. "You want a true course now to the asteroid?"

"Yes. I will get rid of these passengers. Then we will plan further. Doyour best, Haljan--no error! By the Gods, I warn you I can check up onyou!"

I said meekly, "Very well. But you ask Prince if he wants mycalculations of Grantline's ore-body. "

I shot Miko a foxy look as he stood by my door. I added, "You think youare clever. There is plenty you don't know. Our first night out from theEarth--Grantline's signals--didn't it ever occur to you that I mighthave some figures on his treasure?"

It startled him. "Where are they?"

I tapped my forehead. "You don't suppose I was foolish enough to recordthem. You ask Prince if he wants to talk to me. A high thorium contentin ore--you ask Prince. A hundred millions, or two hundred. It wouldmake a big difference, Miko. "

"I will think about it. " He backed out and sealed the door upon me onceagain. 

 * * * * *

But Anita did not come. I verified Hahn's figures, which were verynearly correct. I charted a course for the asteroid; it was almost theone which had been set. 

Coniston came for my results. "I say, we are not so bad as navigators, are we? I think we're jolly good, considering our inexperience. Not badat all, eh?"

"No. "

I did not think it wise to ask him about Prince. 

"Are you hungry, Haljan?" he demanded. 

"Yes. "

A steward came with a meal. The saturnine Hahn stood at my door with aweapon upon me while I ate. They were taking no chances--and they werewise not to. 

The day passed. Day and night, all the same of aspect here in the starryvault of Space. But with the ship's routine it was day. 

And then another time of sleep. I slept, fitfully, worrying, trying toplan. Within a few hours we would be nearing the asteroid. 

The time of sleep was nearly passed. My chronometer marked five A. M. Ofour original Earth starting time. The seal of my cubby door hissed. Thedoor slowly, opened. 

Anita!

She stood there with her cloak around her. A distance away on theshadowed deck-space Coniston was loitering. 

"Anita!" I whispered it. 

"Gregg, dear!"

She turned and gestured to the watching brigand. "I will not be long, Coniston. "

She came in and half closed the door upon us, leaving it open enough sothat we could make sure that Coniston did not advance. 

I stepped back where he could not see us. 

"Anita!"

She flung herself into my opened arms. 

CHAPTER XV

_The Masquerader_

A moment when beyond all thought of the nearby brigand--or thepossibility of an eavesdropping ray trained now upon my little cubby--amoment while Anita and I held each other; and whispered those thingswhich could mean nothing to the world, but which were all the world tous. 

Then it was she whose wits brought us back from the shining fairyland ofour love, into the sinister reality of the _Planetara_. 

"Gregg, if they are listening--"

I pushed her away. This brave little masquerader! Not for my life, orfor all the lives on the ship, would I consciously have endangered her. 

"But the ore, " I said aloud. "There was, in Grantline's message--Seehere, Prince. "

Coniston was too far away on the deck to hear us. Anita went to my dooragain and waved at him reassuringly. I put my ear to the door opening, and listened at the space across the grid of the ventilator over mybunk. The hum of a vibration would have been audible at those twopoints. But there was nothing. 

"It's all right, " I whispered. "Anita--not you who was killed! I canhardly realize it now. Not you whom they buried yesterday morning. "

We stood and whispered, and she clung to me--so small beside me. Withthe black robe thrown aside, it seemed that I could not miss the curvesof her woman's figure. A dangerous game she was playing. Her hair hadbeen cut short to the base of her neck, in the fashion of her deadbrother. Her eyelashes had been clipped; the line of her brows altered. And now, in the light of my ray tube as it shone upon her earnest face, I could remark other changes. Glutz, the little beauty specialist, wasin this secret. With plastic skill he had altered the set of her jawwith his wax--put masculinity there. 

She was whispering: "It was--was poor George whom Miko shot. "

 * * * * *

I had now the true version of what had occurred. Miko had been forcinghis wooing upon Anita. George Prince was a weakling whose only goodquality was a love for his sister. Some years ago he had fallen intoevil ways. Been arrested, and then discharged from his position with theFederated Radium Corporation. He had taken up with evil companions inGreat-New York. Mostly Martians. And Miko had met him. His technicalknowledge, his training with the Federated Corporation, made himvaluable to Miko's enterprise. And so Prince had joined the brigands. 

Of all this, Anita had been unaware. She had never liked Miko. Fearedhim. And it seemed that the Martian had some hold upon her brother, which puzzled and frightened Anita. 

Then Miko had fallen in love with her. George had not liked it. And thatnight on the _Planetara_, Miko had come and knocked upon Anita's door. Incautiously she opened it; he forced himself in. And when she repulsedhim, struggled with him, George had been awakened. 

She was whispering to me now. "My room was dark. We were all threestruggling. George was holding me--the shot came--and I screamed. "

And Miko had fled, not knowing whom his shot had hit in the darkness. 

"And when George died, Captain Carter wanted me to impersonate him. Weplanned it with Dr. Frank, to try and learn what Miko and the otherswere doing. Because I never knew that poor George had fallen into suchevil things. "

 * * * * *

I could only hold her thankfully in my arms. The lostwhat-might-have-been seemed coming back to us. 

"And they cut my hair, Gregg, and Glutz altered my face a little, and Idid my best. But there was no time--it came upon us so quickly. "

And she whispered, "But I love you, Gregg. I want to be the first to sayit: I love you--I love you. "

But we had the sanity to try and plan. 

"Anita, when you go back, tell Miko we discussed radium ores. You'llhave to be careful, clever. Don't say too much. Tell him we estimate thetreasure at a hundred and thirty millions. "

I told her what Miko had vouchsafed me of his plans. She knew all that. And Snap knew it. She had had a few moments alone with Snap. Gave me nowa message from him:

"We'll pull out of this, Gregg. "

With Snap she had worked out a plan. There were Snap and I; and Shac andDud Ardley, upon whom we could doubtless depend. And Dr. Frank. Againstus were Miko and his sister; and Coniston and Hahn. Of course there werethe members of the crew. But we were numerically the stronger when itcame to true leadership. Unarmed and guarded now. But if we could breakloose--recapture the ship. .. . 

I sat listening to Anita's eager whispers. It seemed feasible. Miko didnot altogether trust George Prince; Anita was now unarmed. 

"But I can make opportunity! I can get one of their ray cylinders, andan invisible cloak equipment. "

That cloak--it had been hidden in Miko's room when Carter searched forit in A20--was now in the chart-room by Johnson's body. It had beenrepaired now; Anita thought she could get possession of it. 

 * * * * *

We worked out the details of the plan. Anita would arm herself, and comeand release me. Together, with a paralyzing ray, we could creep aboardthe ship, overcome these brigands one by one. There were so few of theleaders. With them felled, and with us in control of the turret and thehelio-room we could force the crew to stay at their posts. There were, Anita said, no navigators among Miko's crew. They would not dare opposeus. 

"But it should be done at once, Anita. In a few hours we will be at theasteroid. "

"Yes. I will go now--try and get the weapons. "

"Where is Snap?"

"Still in the helio-room. One of the crew guards him. "

Coniston was roaming the ship; he was still loitering on the deck, watching our door. Hahn was in the turret. The morning watch of the crewwere at their posts in the hull-corridors; the stewards were preparing amorning meal. There were nine members of subordinates altogether, Anitahad calculated. Six of them were in Miko's pay; the other three--our ownmen who had not been killed in the fighting--had joined the brigands. 

"And Dr. Frank, Anita?"

He was in the lounge. All the passengers were herded there, with Mikoand Moa alternating on guard. 

"I will arrange it with Venza, " Anita whispered swiftly. "She will tellthe others. Dr. Frank knows about it now. He thinks it can be done. "

 * * * * *

The possibility of it swept me anew. The brigands were of necessityscattered singly about the ship. One by one, creeping under cover of aninvisible cloak, I could fell them, and replace them without alarmingthe others. My thoughts leaped to it. We would strike down the guard inthe helio-room. Release Snap. At the turret we could assail Hahn, andreplace him with Snap. 

Coniston's voice outside broke in upon us. "Prince. "

He was coming forward. Anita stood in the doorway. "I have the figures, Coniston. By God, this Haljan is with us! And clever! We think it willtotal a hundred and thirty millions. What a stake!"

She whispered, "Gregg, dear--I'll be back soon. We can do it--be ready. "

"Anita--be careful of yourself! If they should suspect you. .. . "

"I'll be careful. In an hour, Gregg, or less, I'll come back. All right, Coniston. Where is Miko? I want to see him. Stay where you are, Haljan!All in good time Miko will trust you with your liberty. You'll be richlike us all, never fear. "

She swaggered out upon the deck, waved at the brigand, and banged mycubby door in my face. 

I sat upon my bunk. Waiting. Would she come back? Would she besuccessful?

CHAPTER XVI

_In the Blue-lit Corridor_

She came. I suppose it was no more than an hour: it seemed an eternityof apprehension. There was the slight hissing of the seal of my door. The panel slid. I had leaped from my bunk where in the darkness I waslying tense. 

"Prince?" I did not dare say, "Anita. "

"Gregg. "

Her voice. My gaze swept the deck as the panel opened. Neither Conistonnor anyone else was in sight, save Anita's dark-robed figure which cameinto my room. 

"You got it?" I asked her in a low whisper. 

I held her for an instant, kissed her. But she pushed me away with quickhands. 

"Gregg, dear--"

She was breathless. My kisses, and the tenseness of what lay before uswere to blame. 

"Gregg, see, I have it. Give us a little light--we must hurry!"

In the blue dimness I saw that she was holding one of the Martiancylinders. The smallest size; it would paralyze, but not kill. 

"Only one, Anita?"

"Yes. I had it before, but Miko took it from me. It was in his room. Andthis--"

The invisible cloak. We laid it on my grid, and I adjusted itsmechanism. A cloak of the reflecting-absorbing variety. [A]

 [A] The principle of this invisible cloak involves the use of an electronized fabric. All color is absorbed. The light rays reflected to the eye of the observer thus show an image of empty blackness. There is also created about the cloak a magnetic field which by natural laws bends the rays of light from objects behind it. This principle of the natural bending of light when passing through a magnetic field was first recognized by Albert Einstein, a scientist of the Twentieth century. In the case of this invisible cloak, the bending light rays, by making visible what was behind the cloak's blackness, thus destroyed its solid black outline and gave a pseudo-invisibility which was fairly effective under favorable conditions. 

 * * * * *

I donned it, and drew its hood, and threw on its current. 

"All right, Anita?"

"Yes. "

"Can you see me?"

"No. " She stepped back a foot or two further. "Not from here. But youmust let no one approach too close. "

Then she came forward, put out her hand, fumbled until she found me. 

It was our plan to have me follow her out. Anyone observing us would seeonly the robed figure of the supposed George Prince, and I would escapenotice. 

The situation about the ship was almost unchanged. Anita had secured theweapon and the cloak and slipped away to my cubby without beingobserved. 

"You're sure of that?"

"I think so, Gregg. I was careful. "

Moa was now in the lounge, guarding the passengers. Hahn was asleep inthe chart-room; Coniston was in the turret. Coniston would be off dutypresently, Anita said, with Hahn taking his place. There were look-outsin the forward and stern watch-towers, and a guard upon Snap in thehelio-room. 

"Is he inside the room, Anita?"

"Snap? Yes. "

"No--the guard. "

"No. He was sitting upon the spider bridge at the door. "

 * * * * *

This was unfortunate. That guard could see all the deck clearly. Hemight be suspicious of George Prince wandering around; it would bedifficult to get near enough to assail him. This cylinder, I knew, hadan effective range of only some twenty feet. 

Anita and I were swiftly whispering. It was necessary now to decideexactly what we were to do; once under observation outside, there mustbe no hesitation, no fumbling. 

"Coniston is sharpest, Gregg. He will be the hardest to get near. "

The languid-spoken Englishman was the one Anita most feared. His alerteyes seemed to miss nothing. Perhaps he was suspicious of this GeorgePrince--Anita thought so. 

"But where is Miko?" I whispered. 

The brigand leader had gone below a few moments ago, down into thehull-corridor. Anita had seized the opportunity to come to me. 

"We can attack Hahn in the chart-room first, " I suggested. "And get theother weapons. Are they still there?"

"Yes. But Gregg, the forward deck is very bright. "

We were approaching the asteroid. Already its light like a brilliantmoon was brightening the forward deck-space. It made me realize how muchhaste was necessary. 

We decided to go down into the hull-corridors. Locate Miko. Fell him, and hide him. His non-appearance back on deck would very soon throw theothers into confusion, especially now with our impending landing uponthe asteroid. And under cover of this confusion we would try and releaseSnap. 

We had been arguing no more than a minute or two. We were ready. Anitaslid my door wide. She stepped through, with me soundlessly scurryingafter her. The empty, silent deck was alternately dark withshadow-patches and bright with blobs of starlight. A sheen of the Sun'scorona was mingled with it; and from forward came the radiance of theasteroid's mellow silver glow. 

 * * * * *

Anita turned to seal my door; within my faintly humming cloak I stoodbeside her. Was I invisible in this light? Almost directly over us, close under the dome, the look-out sat in his little tower. He gazeddown at Anita. 

Amidships, high over the cabin superstructure, the helio-room hung darkand silent. The guard on its bridge was visible. He, too, looked down. 

A tense instant. Then I breathed again. There was no alarm. The twoguards answered Anita's gesture. 

Anita said aloud into my empty cubby: "Miko will come for you presently, Haljan. He told me to tell you that he wants you at the turret controlsto land us on the asteroid. "

She finished sealing my door and turned away; started forward along thedeck. I followed. My steps were soundless in my elastic-bottomed shoes. Anita swaggered with a noisy tread. Near the door of the smoking room asmall incline passage led downward. We went into it. 

The passage was dimly blue-lit. We descended its length, came to themain corridor, which ran the length of the hull. A vaulted metalpassage, with doors to the control rooms opening from it. Dim lightsshowed at intervals. 

 * * * * *

The humming of the ship was more apparent here. It drowned the slighthumming of my cloak. I crept after Anita; my hand under the cloakclutched the ray weapon. 

A steward passed us. I shrank aside to avoid him. 

Anita spoke to him. "Where is Miko, Ellis?"

"In the ventilator-room, Mr. Prince. There was difficulty with the airrenewal. "

Anita nodded, and moved on. I could have felled that steward as hepassed me. Oh, if I only had, how different things might have been!

But it seemed needless. I let him go, and he turned into a nearby doorwhich led to the galley. 

Anita moved forward. If we could come upon Miko alone. Abruptly sheturned, and whispered, "Gregg, if other men are with him, I'll draw himaway. You watch your chance. "

What little things may overthrow one's careful plans! Anita had notrealized how close to her I was following. And her turning sounexpectedly caused me to collide with her sharply. 

"Oh!" She exclaimed it involuntarily. Her outflung hand had unwittinglygripped my wrist, caught the electrode there. The touch burned her, andclose-circuited my robe. There was a hiss. My current burned out thetiny fuses. 

My invisibility was gone! I stood, a tall black-hooded figure, revealedto the gaze of anyone who might be near!

The futile plans of humans! We had planned so carefully! Ourcalculations, our hopes of what we could do, came clattering now in asudden wreckage around us. 

"Anita, run!"

If I were seen with her, then her own disguise would probably bediscovered. That above everything would be disaster!

"Anita, get away from me! I must try it alone!"

 * * * * *

I could hide somewhere, repair the cloak perhaps. Or, since now I wasarmed, why could I not boldly start an assault?

"Gregg, we must get you back to your cubby!" She was clinging to me in apanic. 

"No! You run! Get away from me! Don't you understand? George Prince hasno business here with me! They'd kill you!"

Or worse--- Miko would discover it was Anita, not George Prince. 

"Gregg, let's get back to the deck. "

I pushed at her. Both of us in sudden confusion. 

From behind me there came a shout. That accursed steward! He hadreturned, to investigate perhaps what George Prince was doing in thiscorridor. He heard our voices; his shout in the silence of the shipsounded horribly loud. The white-clothed shape of him was in the nearbydoorway. He stood stricken in surprise at seeing me. And then turned torun. 

I fired my paralyzing cylinder through my cloak. Got him! He fell. Ishoved Anita violently. 

"Run! Tell Miko to come--tell him you heard a shout! He won't suspectyou!"

"But Gregg--"

"You mustn't be found out! You're our only hope, Anita! I'll hide, fixthe cloak, or get back to my cubby. We'll try it again. "

It decided her. She scurried down the corridor. I whirled the other way. The steward's shout might not have been heard. 

Then realization flashed to me. That steward would be revived. He wasone of Miko's men: for two voyages he had been a spy upon the_Planetara_. He would be revived and tell what he had seen and heard. Anita's disguise would be revealed. 

A cold-blooded killing I do protest went against me. But it wasnecessary. I flung myself upon him. I beat his skull with the metal ofmy cylinder. 

I stood up. My hood had fallen back from my head. I wiped my bloodyhands on my useless cloak. I had smashed the cylinder. 

"Haljan!"

 * * * * *

Anita's voice! A sharp note of horror and warning. I became aware thatin the corridor, forty feet down its dim length, Miko had appeared, withAnita behind him. His rifle-bullet-projector was leveled. It spat at me. But Anita had pulled at his arm. 

The explosive report was sharply deafening in the confined space of thecorridor. With a spurt of flame the leaden pellet struck over my headagainst the vaulted ceiling. 

Miko was struggling with Anita. "Prince, you idiot!"

"Miko, don't! It's Haljan! Don't kill him--"

The turmoil brought members of the crew. From the shadowed oval near methey came running. I flung the useless cylinder at them. But I wastrapped in the narrow passage. 

I might have fought my way out. Or Miko might have shot me. But therewas the danger that, in her horror, Anita would betray herself. 

I backed against the wall. "Don't kill me! See, I will not fight!"

I flung up my arms. And the crew, emboldened, and courageous underMiko's gaze, leaped on me and bore me down. 

The futile plans of humans! Anita and I had planned so carefully, and ina few brief minutes of action it had come only to this!

CHAPTER XVII

_A Woman of Mars_

"So, Gregg Haljan, you are not as loyal as you pretend!"

Miko was livid with suppressed anger. They had stripped the cloak fromme, and flung me back in my cubby. Miko was now confronting me; at thedoor Moa stood watching. And Anita was behind her. I sat outwardlydefiant and sullen on my bunk. But I was alert and tense, fearful stillof what Anita's emotion might betray her into doing. 

"Not so loyal, " Miko repeated. "And a fool! Do you think I am such achild you can escape me!"

He swung around. "How did he get out of here? Prince, you came in here!"

My heart was wildly thumping. But Anita retorted with a touch of spirit:

"I came to tell him what you commanded. To check Hahn's latestfigures--and to be ready to take the controls when we go into theasteroid's atmosphere. "

"Well, how did he get out?"

"How should I know?" she parried. Little actress! Her spirit helped toallay my fear. She held her cloak close around her in the fashion theyhad come to expect from the George Prince who had just buried hissister. "How should I know, Miko? I sealed his door. "

"But did you?"

"Of course he did, " Moa put in. 

"Ask your look-outs, " said Anita. "They saw me--I waved to them just asI sealed the door. "

I ventured, "I have been taught to open doors. " I managed a sly, lugubrious smile. "I shall not try it again, Miko. "

Nothing had been said about my killing of the steward. I thanked myconstellations now that he was dead. "I shall not try it again, " Irepeated. 

A glance passed between Miko and his sister. Miko said abruptly, "Youseem to realize that it is not my purpose to kill you. And you presumeupon it. "

"I shall not again. " I eyed Moa. She was gazing at me steadily. Shesaid, "Leave me with him, Miko. .. . " She smiled. "Gregg Haljan, we are nomore than twenty thousand miles from the asteroid now. The calculationsfor retarding are now in operation. "

 * * * * *

It was what had taken Miko below, that and trouble with the ventilatingsystem, which was soon rectified. But the retarding of the ship'svelocity when nearing a destination required accurate manipulation. These brigands were fearful of their own skill. That was obvious. Itgave me confidence. I was really needed. They would not harm me. Exceptfor Miko's impulsive temper, I was in no danger from them--not now, certainly. 

Moa was saying, "I think I may make you understand, Gregg. We havetremendous riches within our grasp. "

"I know it, " I added with sudden thought. "But there are many with whomto divide this treasure. .. . "

Miko caught my intended implication. "By the infernal, this fellow mayhave felt he could seize the treasure for himself! Because he is anavigator!"

Moa said vehemently, "Do not be an idiot, Gregg! You could not do it!There will be fighting with Grantline. "

My purpose was accomplished. They seemed to see me a willing outlaw likethemselves. As though it were a bond between us. And they could win me. 

"Leave me with him, " said Moa. 

Miko acquiesced. "For a few minutes only. " He proffered a heat-raycylinder, but she refused it. 

"I am not afraid of him. "

Miko swung on me. "Within an hour we will be nearing the atmosphere. Will you take the controls?"

"Yes. "

 * * * * *

He set his heavy jaw. His eyes bored into me. "You're a strange fellow, Haljan. I can't make you out. I am not angry now. Do you think, when Iam deadly serious, that I mean what I say?"

His calm words set a sudden shiver over me. I checked my smile. 

"Yes, " I said. 

"Well then, I will tell you this: not for all of Prince's well-meaninginterference, or Moa's liking for you, or my own need of your skill, will I tolerate more trouble from you. The next time--I will kill you. Do you believe me?"

"Yes. "

"That is all I want to say. You kill my men, and my sister says I mustnot hurt you. I am not a child to be ruled by a woman!"

He held his huge fist before my face. "With these fingers I will twistyour neck! Do you believe it?"

"Yes. " I did indeed. 

He swung on his heel. "If Moa wants to try and put sense into yourhead--I hope she does. Bring him to the lounge when you are finished, Moa. Come, Prince--Hahn will need us. " He chuckled grimly. "Hahn seemsto fear we will plunge into this asteroid like a wild comet gonesuddenly tangent!"

Anita moved aside to let him through the door. I caught a glimpse of herset white face as she followed him down the deck. 

Then Moa's bulk blocked the doorway. She faced me. 

"Sit where you are, Gregg. " She turned and closed the door upon us. "Iam not afraid of you. Should I be?"

"No, " I said. 

She came and sat down beside me. "If you should attempt to leave thisroom, the stern look-out has orders to bore you through. "

"I have no intention of leaving the room, " I retorted. "I do not want tocommit suicide. "

"I thought you did. You seem minded in such a fashion. Gregg, why areyou so foolish?"

 * * * * *

I remained silent. 

"Why?" she demanded. 

I said carefully, "This treasure--you are many who will divide it. Youhave all these men on the _Planetara_. And in Ferrok-Shahn, others, nodoubt. "

I paused. Would she tell me? Could I make her talk of that other brigandship which Miko had said was waiting on Mars? I wondered if he had beenable to signal it. The distance from here to Mars was great; yet uponother voyages Snap's signals had gotten through. My heart sank at thethought. Our situation here was desperate enough. The passengers soonwould be cast upon the asteroid: there would be left only Snap, Anitaand myself. We might recapture the ship, but I doubted it now. Mythoughts were turning to our arrival upon the Moon. We three might, perhaps, be able to thwart the attack upon Grantline, hold the brigandsoff until help from the Earth might come. 

But with another brigand ship, fully manned and armed, coming from Mars, the condition would be immeasurably worse. Grantline had some twentymen, and his camp, I knew, would be reasonably fortified. I knew, too, that Johnny Grantline would fight to his last man. 

Moa was saying, "I would like to tell you our plans, Gregg. "

Her gaze was on my face. Keen eyes, but they were luminous now--anemotion in them sweeping her. But outwardly she was calm, stern-lipped. 

"Well, why don't you tell me?" I said. "If I am to help you. .. . "

"Gregg, I want you with us. Don't you understand? We are not many. Mybrother and I are guiding this affair. With your help, I would feeldifferently. "

"The ship at Ferrok-Shahn--"

 * * * * *

My fears were realized. She said, "I think our signals reached it. Deantried, and Coniston was checking him. "

"You think the ship is coming?"

"Yes. "

"Where will it join us?"

"At the Moon. We will be there in thirty hours. Your figures gave that, did they not, Gregg?"

"Yes. And the other ship--how fast is it?"

"Quite fast. In eight days--or nine, perhaps--it will reach the Moon. "

She seemed willing enough to talk. There was indeed, no particularreason for reticence; I could not, she naturally felt, turn theknowledge to account. 

"Manned--" I prompted. 

"About forty men. "

"And armed? Long range projectors?"

"You ask very avid questions, Gregg!"

"Why should I not? Don't you suppose I'm interested?" I touched her. "Moa, did it ever occur to you, if once you and Miko trusted me--whichyou don't--I might show more interest in joining you?"

The look on her face emboldened me. "Did you ever think of that, Moa?And some arrangement for my share of this treasure? I am not likeJohnson, to be hired for a hundred pounds of gold-leaf. "

"Gregg, I will see that you get your share. Riches, for you--and me. "

"I was thinking, Moa, when we land at the Moon to-morrow--where is ourequipment?"

The Moon, with its lack of atmosphere, needed special equipment. I hadnever heard Carter mention what apparatus the _Planetara_ was carrying. 

 * * * * *

Moa laughed. "We have located air-suits and helmets--a variety ofsuitable apparatus, Gregg. But we were not foolish enough to leaveGreat-New York on this voyage without our own arrangements. My brother, and Coniston and Prince--all of us shipped crates of freight consignedto Ferrok-Shahn--and Rankin had special baggage marked 'theatricalapparatus. '"

I understood it now. These brigands had boarded the _Planetara_ withtheir own Moon equipment, disguised as freight and personal baggage. Shipped in bond, to be inspected by the tax officials of Mars. 

"It is on board now. We will open it when we leave the asteroid, Gregg. We are well equipped. "

She bent toward me. And suddenly her long lean fingers were gripping myshoulders. 

"Gregg, look at me!"

I gazed into her eyes. There was passion there; and her voice wassuddenly intense. 

"Gregg, I told you once a Martian girl goes after what she wants. It isyou I want--"

Not for me to play like a cad upon a woman's emotions! "Moa, you flatterme. "

"I love you. " She held me off, gazing at me. "Gregg--"

I must have smiled. And abruptly she released me. 

"So you think it amusing?"

"No. But on Earth--"

"We are not on the Earth. Nor am I of the Earth!" She was gauging mekeenly. No note of pleading was in her voice; a stern authority; and thepassion was swinging to anger. 

"I am like my brother: I do not understand you, Gregg Haljan. Perhapsyou think you are clever? It seems stupidity, the fatuousness of man!"

"Perhaps, " I said. 

 * * * * *

There was a moment of silence. "Gregg, I said I loved you. Have you noanswer?"

"No. " In truth, I did not know what sort of answer it would be best tomake. Whatever she must have read in my eyes, it stirred her to fury. Her fingers with the strength of a man in them, dug into my shoulders. Her gaze searched me. 

"You think you love someone else? Is that it?"

That was horribly startling; but she did not mean it just that way. Sheamended with caustic venom: "That little Anita Prince! You thought youloved her! Was that it?"

"No!"

But I hardly deceived her. "Sacred to her memory! Her ratlike littleface--soft voice like a purring, sniveling cat! Is that what you'reremembering, Gregg Haljan?" she sneered. 

I tried to laugh. "What nonsense!"

"Is it? Then why are you cold under my touch? Am I--a girl descendedfrom the Martian flame-workers--impotent now to awaken a man?"

A woman scorned! In all the Universe there could be no more dangerous anenemy. An incredible venom shot from her eyes. 

"That miserable mouselike creature! Well for her that my brother killedher. "

It struck me cold. If Anita was unmasked, beyond all the menace ofMiko's wooing, I knew that the venom of Moa's jealousy was a greaterdanger. 

I said sharply, "Don't be simple, Moa!" I shook off her grip. "Youimagine too much. You forget that I am a man of the Earth and you a girlof Mars. "

"Is that reason why we should not love?"

"No. But our instincts are different. Men of the Earth are born to thechase. "

 * * * * *

I was smiling. With thought of Anita's danger I could find it readily inmy heart to dupe this Amazon. 

"Give me time, Moa. You attract me. "

"You lie!"

"Do you think so?" I gripped her arm with all the power of my fingers. It must have hurt her, but she gave no sign; her gaze clung to mesteadily. 

"I don't know what to think, Gregg Haljan. .. . "

I held my grip. "Think what you like. Men of Earth have been known tokill the thing they love. "

"You want me to fear you?"

"Perhaps. "

She smiled scornfully. "That is absurd. "

I released her. I said earnestly, "I want you to realize that if youtreat me fairly, I can be of great advantage to this venture. There willbe fighting--I am fearless. "

Her venomous expression was softening. "I think that is true, Gregg. "

"And you need my navigating skill. Even now I should be in the turret. "

I stood up. I half expected she would stop me, but she did not. I added, "Shall we go?"

She stood beside me. Her height brought her face level with mine. 

"I think you will cause no more trouble, Gregg?"

"Of course not. I am not wholly witless. "

"You have been. "

"Well, that is over. " I hesitated. Then I added, "A man of Earth doesnot yield to love when there is work to do. This treasure--"

I think that of everything I said, this last most convinced her. 

She interrupted, "That I understand. " Her eyes were smoldering. "When itis over--when we are rich--then I will claim you, Gregg. "

 * * * * *

She turned from me. "Are you ready?"

"Yes. No! I must get that sheet of Hahn's last figures. "

"Are they checked?"

"Yes. " I picked the sheet up from my desk. "Hahn is fairly accurate, Moa. "

"A fool nevertheless. An apprehensive fool. "

A comradeship seemed coming between us. It was my purpose to establishit. 

"Are we going to maroon Dr. Frank with the passengers?" I asked. 

"Yes. "

"But he may be of use to us. " I wanted Dr. Frank kept aboard. I stillfelt that there was a chance for us to recapture the ship. 

But Moa shook her head decisively. "My brother has decided not. We willbe well rid of Dr. Frank. Are you ready, Gregg?"

"Yes. "

She opened the door. Her gesture reassured the look-out, who was alertlywatching the stern watch-tower. 

"Come, Gregg. "

I stepped out, and followed her forward along the deck, which now wasbright with the radiance of the nearby asteroid. 

CHAPTER XVIII

_Marooned on an Asteroid_

A fair little world. I had thought so before; and I thought so now as Igazed at the asteroid hanging so close before our bow. A huge, thincrescent, with the Sun off to one side behind it. A silver crescent, tinged with red. From this near viewpoint, all of the little globe'sdisc was visible. The shadowed portion lay dimly red, mysteriously; thesunlit crescent--widening visibly is we approached--was gleaming silver. Inky moonlike shadows in the hollows, brilliant light upon the mountainheights. The seas lay in gray patches. The convexity of the disc wassharply defined. So small a world! Fair and beautiful, shrouded withclouded areas. 

"Where is Miko?"

"In the lounge, Gregg. "

"Can we stop there?"

Moa turned into the lounge archway. Strange, tense scene. I saw Anita atonce. Her robed figure lurked in an inconspicuous corner; her eyes wereupon me as Moa and I entered, but she did not move. The thirty-oddpassengers were huddled in a group. Solemn, white-faced men, frightenedwomen. Some of them were sobbing. One Earth-woman--a young widow--satholding her little girl, and wailing with uncontrolled hysteria. Thechild knew me. As I appeared now, with my gold-laced white coat over myshoulders, the little child seemed to see in my uniform a mark ofauthority. She left her mother and ran to me. 

"You, please--you will help us? My moms is crying. "

I sent her gently back. But there came upon me then a compassion forthese innocent passengers, fated to have embarked upon this ill-starredvoyage. Herded here in this cabin, with brigands like pirates of oldguarding them. Waiting now to be marooned on an uninhabited asteroidroaming in space. A sense of responsibility swept me. I swung upon Miko. He stood with a nonchalant grace, lounging against the wall with acylinder dangling in his hand. He anticipated me. 

"So, Haljan--she put some sense into your head? No more trouble? Thenget into the turret. Moa, stay there with him. Send Hahn here. Where isthat ass Coniston? We will be in the atmosphere shortly. "

I said, "No more trouble from me, Miko. But these passengers--whatpreparation are you making for them on the asteroid?"

 * * * * *

He stared in surprise. Then he laughed. "I am no murderer. The crew ispreparing food, all we can spare. And tools. They can build themselvesshelter--they will be picked up in a few weeks. "

Dr. Frank was here. I caught his gaze, but he did not speak. On thelounge couches there still lay the quarter-score bodies. Rankin, whohad been killed by Blackstone in the fight; a man passenger killed; awoman and a man wounded. 

Miko added, "Dr. Frank will take his medical supplies--he will care forthe wounded. There are other bodies among the crew. " His gesture wasdeprecating. "I have not buried them. We will put them ashore; easierthat way. "

The passengers were all eyeing me. I said:

"You have nothing to fear. I will guarantee you the best equipment wecan spare. You will give them apparatus with which to signal?" Idemanded of Miko. 

"Yes. Get to the turret. "

I turned away, with Moa after me. Again the little girl ran forward. 

"Come--speak to my moms! She is crying. "

It was across the cabin from Miko. Coniston had appeared from the deck;it created a slight diversion. He joined Miko. 

"Wait, " I said to Moa. "She is afraid of you. This is humanity. "

I pushed Moa back. I followed the child. I had seen that Venza wassitting with the child's weeping mother. This was a ruse to get wordwith me. 

I stood before the terrified woman while the little girl clung to mylegs. 

I said gently, "Don't be so frightened. Dr. Frank will take care of you. There is no danger--you will be safer on the asteroid than here on theship. "

I leaned down and touched her shoulder. "There is no danger. "

 * * * * *

I was between Venza and the open cabin. Venza whispered swiftly, "Whenwe are landing, Gregg, I want you to make a commotion--anything--just asthe women passengers go ashore. "

"Why? No, of course you will have food, Mrs. Francis. "

"Never mind! An instant. Just confusion. Go, Gregg--don't speak now!"

I raised the child. "You take care of mother. " I kissed her. 

From across the cabin Miko's sardonic voice made me turn. "Touchingsentimentality, Haljan! Get to your post in the turret!"

His rasping note of annoyance brooked no delay. I set the child down. Isaid, "I will land us in an hour. Depend on it. "

Hahn was at the controls when Moa and I reached the turret. 

"You will land us safely, Haljan?" he demanded anxiously. 

I pushed him away. "Miko wants you in the lounge. "

"You take command here?"

"Of course, Hahn. I am no more anxious for a crash than you. "

He sighed with relief. "That is true. I am no expert at atmosphericentry, Haljan--nor Coniston, nor Miko. "

"Have no fear. Sit down, Moa. "

I waved to the look-out in the forward watch-tower, and got his routinegesture. I rang the corridor bells, and the normal signals came promptlyback. 

"It's correct, Hahn. Get away with you. " I called after him. "Tell Mikothat things are all right here. "

Hahn's small dark figure, lithe as a leopard in his tight fittingtrousers and jacket with his robe now discarded, went swiftly down thespider incline and across the deck. 

"Moa, where is Snap? By the infernal, if he has been injured!--"

 * * * * *

Up on the helio-room bridge the brigand guard still sat. Then I saw thatSnap was out there sitting with him. I waved from the turret window, andSnap's cheery gesture answered me. His voice carried down through thesilver moonlight: "Land us safely, Gregg. These weird amateurnavigators!"

Within the hour I had us dropping into the asteroid's atmosphere. Theship heated steadily. The pressure went up. It kept me busy with theinstruments and the calculations. But my signals were always promptlyanswered from below. The brigand crew did its part efficiently. 

At a hundred and fifty thousand feet I shifted the gravity plates to thelanding combinations, and started the electronic engines. 

"All safe, Gregg?" Moa sat at my elbow; her eyes, with what seemed aglow of admiration in them, followed my busy routine activities. 

"Yes. The crew works well. "

The electronic streams flowed out like a rocket tail behind us. The_Planetara_ caught their impetus. In the rarified air, our bow liftedslightly, like a ship riding a gentle ground swell. At a hundredthousand feet we sailed gently forward, hull down to the asteroid'ssurface, cruising to seek a landing space. 

A little sea was now beneath us. A shadowed sea, deep purple in thenight down there. Occasional green-verdured islands showed, with thelines of white surf marking them. Beyond the sea, a curving coastlinewas visible. Rocky headlines, behind which mountain foothills rose inserrated, verdured ranks. The sunlight edged the distant mountains; andpresently this rapidly turning little world brought the sunlightforward. 

 * * * * *

It was day beneath us. We slid gently downward. Thirty thousand feetnow, above a sparkling blue ocean. The coastline was just ahead: greenwith a lush, tropical vegetation. Giant trees, huge-leaved. Longdangling vines; air plants, with giant pods and vivid orchidlikeblossoms. 

I sat at the turret window, staring through my glasses. A fair littleworld, yet obviously uninhabited. I could fancy that all this wasnewly-sprung vegetation. This asteroid had whirled in from the cold ofthe interplanetary space far outside our Solar System. A few yearsago--as time might be measured astronomically, it was no more thanyesterday--this fair landscape was congealed white and bleak, with asweep of glacial ice. But the seeds of life miraculously were here. Themiracle of life! Under the warming, germinating sunlight, the verduresprung. 

"Can you find landing space, Gregg?"

Moa's question brought back my wandering fancies. I saw an upland glade, a level spread of ferns with the forest banked around it. A cliff-heightnearby, frowning down at the sea. 

"Yes. I can land us there. " I showed her through the glasses. I rang thesirens, and we spiraled, descending further. The mountain tops were nowclose beneath us. Clouds were overhead, white masses with blue skybehind them. A day of brilliant sunlight. But soon, with our forwardcruising, it was night. The sunlight dropped beneath the sharply convexhorizon; the sea and the land went purple. 

A night of brilliant stars; the Earth was a blazing blue-red point oflight. The heavens visibly were revolving; in an hour or so it would bedaylight again. 

On the forward deck now Coniston had appeared, commanding half a dozenof the crew. They were carrying up caskets of food and the equipmentwhich was to be given the marooned passengers. And making ready thedisembarking incline, loosening the seals of the side-dome windows. 

Sternward on the deck, by the lounge oval, I could see Miko standing. And occasionally the roar of his voice at the passengers sounded. 

 * * * * *

My vagrant thought flung back into Earth's history. Like this, ancienttravelers of the surface of the sea were herded by pirates to walk theplank, or put ashore, marooned upon some fair desert island of thetropic Spanish main. 

Hahn came mounting our turret incline. "All is well, Gregg Haljan?"

"Get to your work, " Moa told him sharply. "We land in an hour-quadrant. "

He retreated, joining the bustle and confusion which now was beginningon the deck. It struck me--could I turn that confusion to account? Wouldit be possible, now at the last moment, to attack these brigands? Snapstill sat outside the helio-room doorway. But his guard was alert, withupraised projector. And that guard, I saw, in his position highamidships, commanded all the deck. 

And I saw too, as the passengers now were herded in a line from thelounge oval, that Miko had roped and bound all of the men. And aclanking chain connected them. They came like a line of convicts, marching forward, and stopped on the open deck-space near the base ofthe turret. Dr. Frank's grim face gazed up at me. 

Miko ordered the women and children in a group beside the chained men. His words to them reached me: "You are in no danger. When we land, becareful. You will find gravity very different--this is a very smallworld. "

I flung on the landing lights; the deck glowed with the blue radiance;the search-beams shot down beside our hull. We hung now a thousand feetabove the forest glade. I cut off the electronic streams. We poised, with the gravity-plates set at normal, and only a gentle night-breeze togive us a slight side drift. This I could control with the lateralpropeller rudders. 

For all my busy landing routine, my mind was on other things. Venza'sswift words back there in the lounge. I was to create a commotion whilethe passengers were landing. Why? Had she and Dr. Frank, perhaps, somelast minute desperate purposes?

 * * * * *

I determined I would do what she said. Shout, or mis-order the lights. That would be easy. But to what advantage?

I was glad it was night--I had, indeed, calculated our descent so thatthe landing would be in darkness. But to what purpose? These brigandswere very alert. There was nothing I could think of to do which wouldavail us anything more than a possible swift death under Miko's anger. 

"Well done, Gregg!" said Moa. 

I cut off the last of the propellers. With scarcely a perceptible jar, the _Planetara_ grounded, rose like a feather and settled to rest in theglade. The deep purple night with stars overhead was around us. I hissedout our interior air through the dome and hull-ports, and admitted thenight-air of the asteroid. My calculations--of necessity meremathematical approximations--proved fairly accurate. In temperature andpressure there was no radical change as the dome-windows slid back. 

We had landed. Whatever Venza's purpose, her moment was at hand. I wastense. But I was aware also, that beside me Moa was very alert. I hadthought her unarmed. She was not. She sat back from me; in her hand wasa small thin knife-blade. 

She murmured tensely, "You have done your part, Gregg. Well andskillfully done. Now we will sit here quietly and watch them land. "

Snap's guard was standing, keenly watching. The look-outs in the forwardand stern towers were also armed; I could see them both gazing keenlydown at the confusion of the blue-lit deck. 

The incline went over the hull-side and touched the ground. 

"Enough!" Miko roared. "The men first. Hahn, move the women back!Coniston, pile those caskets to the side. Get out of the way, Prince. "

 * * * * *

Anita was down there. I saw her at the edge of the group of women. Venzawas near her. 

Miko shoved her. "Get out of the way, Prince. You can help Coniston. Have the things ready to throw off. "

Five of the steward-crew were at the head of the incline. Miko shoutedup at me:

"Haljan, hold our shipboard gravity normal. "

"Yes, " I responded. 

I had done so. Our magnitizers had been adjusted to the shiftingcalculations of our landing. They were holding now at intensities, sothat upon the _Planetara_ no change from fairly normal Earth-gravitywas apparent. I rang a tentative inquiry signal; the operator in thehull-magnetizer control answered that he was at his post. 

The line of men were first to descend. Dr. Frank led them. He flashed alook of farewell up at me and Snap as he went down the incline with thechained men passengers after him. 

Motley procession! Twenty odd, dishevelled, half-clothed men of threeworlds. The changing, lightening gravity on the incline caught them. Dr. Frank bounded up to the rail under the impetus of his step: caught andheld himself, drew himself back. The line swayed. In the dim, blue-litglare it seemed unreal, crazy. A grotesque dream of men descending aplank. 

They reached the forest glade. Stood swaying, afraid at first to move. The purple night crowded them; they stood gazing at this strange world, their new prison. 

"Now the women. "

Miko was shoving the women to the head of the incline. I could feelMoa's steady gaze upon me. Her knife-blade gleamed in the turret light. 

She murmured again, "In a few minutes you can ring us away, Gregg. "

 * * * * *

I felt like an actor awaiting his cue in the wings of some turgid dramathe plot of which he did not know. Venza was near the head of theincline. Some of the women and children were on it. A woman screamed. Her child had slipped from her hand, bounded up over the rail, andfallen. Hardly fallen--floated down to the ground, with flailing armsand legs, landing in the dark ferns, unharmed. Its terrified wail cameup. 

There was a confusion on the incline. Venza, still on the deck, seemedto send a look of appeal to the turret. My cue?

I slid my hand to the light switchboard. It was near my knees. I pulleda switch. The blue-lit deck beneath the turret went dark. 

I recall an instant of horrible, tense silence, and in the gloom besideme I was aware of Moa moving. I felt a thrill of instinctive fear--wouldshe plunge that knife into me?

The silence of the darkened deck was broken with a confusion of sounds. A babble of voices; a woman passenger's scream; shuffling of feet; andabove it all, Miko's roar:

"Stand quiet! Everyone! No movement!"

On the descending incline there was chaos. The disembarking women wereclinging to the gang-rail; some of them had evidently surged over it andfallen. Down on the ground in the purple-shadowed starlight I couldvaguely see the chained line of men. They too were in confusion, tryingto shove themselves toward the fallen women. 

Miko roared:

"Light those tubes! Gregg Haljan! By the Almighty, Moa, are you upthere? What is wrong? The light-tubes--"

Dark drama of unknown plot! I wonder if I should try and leave theturret. Where was Anita? She had been down there on the deck when Iflung out the lights. 

I think twenty seconds would have covered it all. I had not moved. Ithought, "Is Snap concerned with this?"

Moa's knife could have stabbed me. I felt her lunge against me; andsuddenly I was gripping her, twisting her wrist. But she flung the knifeaway. Her strength was almost the equal of my own. Her hand went for mythroat, and with the other hand she was fumbling. 

 * * * * *

The deck abruptly sprang into light again. Moa had found the switch andthrew it back. 

"Gregg!"

She fought me as I tried to reach the switch. I saw down on the deckMiko gazing up at us. Moa panted, "Gregg--stop! If he--sees you doingthis, he'll kill you--"

The scene down there was almost unchanged. I had answered my cue. Towhat purpose? I saw Anita near Miko. The last of the women were on theplank. 

I had stopped struggling with Moa. She sat back, panting; and then shecalled: "Sorry, Miko. It will not happen again. "

Miko was in a towering rage. But he was too busy to bother with me; hisanger swung on those nearest him. He shoved the last of the womenviolently at the incline. She bounded over. Her body, with thegravity-pull of only a few Earth-pounds, sailed in an arc and dropped tothe sward near the swaying line of men. 

Miko swung back. "Get out of my way!" A sweep of his huge arm knockedAnita sidewise. "Prince, damn you, help me with those boxes!"

The frightened stewards were lifting the boxes, square metalstorage-chests each as long as a man, packed with food, tools, andequipment. 

"Here, get out of my way, all of you!"

My breath came again; Anita nimbly retreated before Miko's angry rush. He dashed at the stewards. Three of them held a box. He took it fromthem; raised it at the top of the incline. Poised it over his head aninstant, with his massive arms like gray pillars beneath it. And flungit. The box catapulted, dropped; and then, passing the Planetara'sgravity area, it sailed in a long flat arc over the forest glade andcrashed into the purple underbrush. 

"Give me another!"

 * * * * *

The stewards pushed another at him. Like an angry Titan, he flung it. And another. One by one the chests sailed out and crashed. 

"There is your food--go pick it up! Haljan, make ready to ring us away!"

On the deck lay the dead body of Rance Rankin, which the stewards hadcarried out. Miko seized it, flung it. 

"There! Go to your last resting place!"

And the other bodies. Balch Blackstone, Captain Carter, Johnson--Mikoflung them. And the course masters and those of our crew who had beenkilled; the stewards appeared with them; Miko unceremoniously cast themoff. 

The passengers were all on the ground now. It was dim down there. Itried to distinguish Venza, but could not. I could see Dr. Frank'sfigure at the end of the chained line of men. The passengers were gazingin horror at the bodies hurtling over them. 

"Ready, Haljan?"

Moa prompted me. "Tell him yes!"

I called, "Yes!" Had Venza failed in her unknown purpose? It seemed so. On the helio-room bridge Snap and his guard stood like silent statues inthe blue-lit gloom. 

The disembarkation was over. 

"Close the ports, " Miko commanded. 

The incline came folding up with a clatter. The port and dome-windowsslid closed. Moa hissed against my ear:

"If you want life, Gregg Haljan, you will start your duties!"

Venza had failed. Whatever it was, it had come to nothing. Down in thepurple forest, disconnected now from the ship, the last of our friendsstood marooned. I could distinguish them through the blur of the closeddome--only a swaying, huddled group was visible. But my fancy picturedthis last sight of them--Dr. Frank, Venza, Shac and Dud Ardley. 

They were gone. There were left only Snap, Anita, and myself. 

 * * * * *

I was mechanically ringing us away. I heard my sirens sounding downbelow, with the answering clangs here in the turret. The _Planetara's_respiratory controls started; the pressure equalizers began operating, and the gravity plates shifted into lifting combinations. 

The ship was hissing and quivering with it, combined with the grating ofthe last of the dome ports. And Miko's command:

"Lift, Haljan. "

Hahn had been mingled with the confusion of the deck, though I hadhardly noticed him; Coniston had remained below, with the crew answeringmy signals. Hahn stood now with Miko, gazing down through a deck window. Anita was alone at another. 

"Lift, Haljan. "

I lifted us gently, bow first, with a repulsion of the bow plates. Andstarted the central electronic engine. Its thrust from our stern movedus diagonally over the purple forest trees. 

The glade slid downward and away. I caught a last vague glimpse of thehuddled group of marooned passengers, staring up at us. Left to theirfate, alone on this deserted little world. 

With the three engines going we slid smoothly upward. The forestdropped, a purple spread of tree-tops, edged with starlight andEarth-light. The sharply curving horizon seemed following us up. I swungon all the power. We mounted at a forty degree angle, slowly circling, with a bank of clouds over us to the side and the shining little seabeneath. 

"Very good, Gregg. " In the turret light Moa's eyes blazed at me. "I donot know what you meant by darkening the deck-lights. " Her fingers dugat my shoulders. "I will tell my brother it was an error. "

I said, "An error--yes. "

"An error? I don't know what it was. But you have me to deal with now. You understand? I will tell my brother so. You said, 'On Earth a man maykill the thing he loves. ' A woman of Mars may do that! Beware of me, Gregg Haljan. "

Her passion-filled eyes bored into me. Love? Hate? The venom of a womanscorned--a mingling of turgid emotions. .. . 

 * * * * *

I twisted away from her grip and ignored her; she sat back, silentlywatching my busy activities; the calculations of the shifting conditionsof gravity, pressures, temperatures; a checking of the score or more ofinstruments on the board before me. 

Mechanical routine. My mind went to Venza, back there on the asteroid. The wandering little world was already shrinking to a convex surfacebeneath us. Venza, with her last unknown play, gone to failure. Had Ifailed my cue? Whatever my part, it seemed now that I must have horriblymis-acted it. 

The crescent Earth was presently swinging over our bow. We rocketed outof the asteroid's shadow. The glowing, flaming Sun appeared, making acrescent of the Earth. With the glass I could see our tiny Moon, visually seeming to hug the limb of its parent Earth. 

We were away upon our course for the Moon. My mind flung ahead. Grantline with his treasure, unsuspecting this brigand ship. Andsuddenly, beyond all thought of Grantline and his treasure, there cameto me a fear for Anita. In God's truth I had been, so far, a verystumbling inept champion--doomed to failure with everything I tried. Itswept me, so that I cursed my own incapacity. Why had I not contrived tohave Anita desert at the asteroid? Would it not have been far better forher there? Taking her chance for rescue with Dr. Frank, Venza and theothers?

But no! I had, like an inept fool, never thought of that! Had left herhere on board at the mercy of these outlaws. 

And I swore now that, beyond everything, I would protect her. 

Futile oath! If I could have seen ahead a few hours! But I sensed thecatastrophe. There was a shudder within me as I sat in that turret, docilely guiding us out through the asteroid's atmosphere, heading usupon our course for the Moon. 

CHAPTER XIX

_In the Zed-light Glow_

"Try again. By the infernal, Snap Dean, if you do anything to balk us!"

Miko scanned the apparatus with keen eyes. How much technical knowledgeof signaling instruments did this brigand leader have? I was tense andcold with apprehension as I sat in a corner of the helio-room, watchingSnap. Could Miko be fooled? Snap, I knew, was trying to fool him. 

The Moon spread close beneath us. My log-chart, computed up to thirtyminutes past, showed us barely some thirty thousand miles over theMoon's surface. The globe lay in quadrature beneath our bow quarter--ahuge quadrant spreading across the black starry vault of the lowerheavens. A silver quadrant. The sunset caught the Lunar mountains, flungslanting shadows over the empty Lunar plains. All the disc was plainlyvisible. The mellow Earth-light glowed serene and pale to illumine theLunar night. 

The _Planetara_ was bathed in silver. A brilliant silver glare swept theforward deck, clean white and splashed with black shadows. We had partlycircled the Moon, so as now to approach it from the Earthward side. Ihad worked with extreme concentration through the last few hours, plotting the trajectory of our curving sweep, setting the gravity plateswith constantly shifting combinations. And with it a necessity for thesteady retarding of our velocity. 

 * * * * *

Miko for a time was at my elbow in the turret. I had not seen Conistonand Hahn of recent hours. I had slept, awakened refreshed, and had ameal. Coniston and Hahn remained below, one or the other of them alwayswith the crew to execute my sirened orders. Then Coniston came to takemy place in the turret, and I went with Miko to the helio-room. 

"You are skilful, Haljan. " A measure of grim approval was in Miko'svoice. "You evidently have no wish to try and fool me in thisnavigation. "

I had not, indeed. It is delicate work at best, coping with theintricacies of celestial mechanics upon a semicircular trajectory withretarding velocity, and with a make-shift crew we could easily havecome upon real difficulty. 

We hung at last, hull-down, facing the Earthward hemisphere of the Lunardisc. The giant ball of the Earth lay behind and above us--the Sun overour stern quarter. With forward velocity almost checked, we poised, andSnap began his signals to the unsuspecting Grantline. 

My work momentarily was over. I sat watching the helio-room. Moa washere, close beside me; I felt always her watchful gaze, so that even theplay of my expression needed reining. 

Miko worked with Snap. Anita too was here. To Miko and Moa it was thesomber, taciturn George Prince, shrouded always in his black mourningcloak, disinclined to talk; sitting alone, brooding and cowardly sullen. 

Miko repeated, "By the infernal, if you try to fool me, Snap Dean!"

The small metal room, with its grid floor and low-arched ceiling, glaredwith moonlight through its windows. The moving figures of Snap and Mikowere aped by the grotesque, misshapen shadows of them on the walls. Mikogigantic--a great, menacing ogre. Snap small and alert--a trim, palefigure in his tight-fitting white trousers, broad-flowing belt, andwhite shirt open at the throat. His face was pale and drawn from lack ofsleep and the torture to which Miko had subjected him. But he grinned atthe brigand's words, and pushed his straggling hair closer under the redeyeshade. 

"I'm doing my best, Miko--you can believe it. "

 * * * * *

The room over long periods was deadly silent, with Miko and Snap bendingwatchfully at the crowded banks of instruments. A silence in which myown pounding heart seemed to echo. I did not dare look at Anita, nor sheat me. Snap was trying to signal Earth, not the Moon! His main helioswere set in the reverse. The infra-red waves, flung from the bowwindow, were of a frequency which Snap and I believed that Grantlinecould not pick up. And over against the wall, close beside me andseemingly ignored by Snap, there was a tiny ultra-violet sender. Itsfaint hum and the quivering of its mirrors had so far passed unnoticed. 

Would some Earth-station pick it up? I prayed so. There was a thumb nailmirror here which could bring an answer. I prayed that it might swing. 

Would some Earth telescope be able to see us? I doubted it. The pinpointof the _Planetara's_ infinitesimal bulk would be beyond them. 

Long silences, broken only by the faint hiss and murmur of Snap'sinstruments. 

"Shall I try the 'graphs, Miko?"

"Yes. "

I helped him with the spectroheliograph. At every level the platesshowed us nothing save the scarred and pitted Moon-surface. We workedfor an hour. There was nothing. Bleak cold night on the Moon herebeneath us. A touch of fading sunlight upon the Apennines. Up near theSouth Pole, Tycho with its radiating open rills stood like a grim darkmaw. 

Miko bent over a plate. "Something here? Is there?"

An abnormality upon the frowning ragged cliffs of Tycho? We thought so. But then it seemed not. 

 * * * * *

Another hour. No signal came from Earth. If Snap's calls were gettingthrough we had no evidence of it. Abruptly Miko strode at me from acrossthe room. I went cold and tense; Moa shifted, alert to my everymovement. But Miko was not interested in me. A sweep of his clenchedfist knocked the ultra-violet sender and its coils and mirrors in atinkling crash to the grid at my feet. 

"We don't need that, whatever it is!"

He rubbed his knuckles where the violet waves had tinged them, andturned grimly back to Snap. 

"Where are your Gamma ray mirrors? If the treasure is exposed--"

This Martian's knowledge was far greater than we believed. He grinnedsardonically at Anita. "If our treasure is on this hemisphere, Prince, we should pick up Gamma rays? Don't you think so? Or is Grantline socautious it will all be protected?"

Anita spoke in a careful, throaty drawl. "The Gamma rays came plainenough when we passed here on the way out. "

"You should know, " grinned Miko. "An expert eavesdropper, Prince--I willsay that for you. Come Dean, try something else. By God, if Grantlinedoes not signal us, I will be likely to blame you--my patience isshortening. Shall we go closer, Haljan?"

"I don't think it would help, " I said. 

He nodded. "Perhaps not. Are we checked?"

"Yes. " We were poised, very nearly motionless. "If you wish an advance, I can ring it. But we need a surface destination now. "

"True, Haljan. " He stood thinking. "Would a zed-ray penetrate thosecrater-cliffs? Tycho, for instance, at this angle?"[B]

"It might, " Snap agreed. "You think he may be on the Northern inner sideof Tycho?"

"He may be anywhere, " said Miko shortly. 

"If you think that, " Snap persisted, "suppose we swing the _Planetara_over the South Pole. Tycho, viewed from there--"

"And take another quarter-day of time?" Miko sneered. "Flash on yourzed-ray; help him hook it up, Haljan. "

 [B] An allusion to the use of the zed-ray light for making spectro-photographs of what might be behind obscuring rock masses, similar to the old-style X-ray. 

 * * * * *

I moved to the lens-box of the spectroheliograph. It seemed that Snapwas very strangely reluctant: Was it because he knew that the Grantlinecamp lay concealed on the north inner wall of Tycho's giant ring? Ithought so. But Snap flashed a queer look at Anita. She did not see it, but I did. And I could not understand it. 

My accursed, witless incapacity! If only I had taken warning!

"Here, " commanded Miko. "A score of 'graphs with the zed-ray. I tell youI will comb this surface if we have to stay here until our ship comesfrom Ferrok-Shahn to join us!"

The Martian brigands were coming. Miko's signals had been answered. Inten days the other brigand ship, adequately manned and armed, would behere. 

Snap helped me connect the zed-ray. He did not dare even to whisper tome, with Moa hovering always so close. And for all Miko's sardonicsmiling, we knew that he would tolerate nothing from us now. He wasfully armed, and so was Moa. 

I recall that Snap several times tried to touch me significantly. Oh, ifonly I had taken warning!

We finished our connecting. The dull gray point of zed-ray gleamedthrough the prisms, to mingle with the moonlight entering the main lens. I stood with the shutter trip. 

"The same interval, Snap?"

"Yes. "

Beside me, I was aware of a faint reflection of the zed-light--a grayCathedral shaft crossing the helio-room and falling upon the oppositewall. An unreality there, as the zed-light faintly strove to penetratethe metal room-side. 

I said, "Shall I make the exposure?"

 * * * * *

Snap nodded. But that 'graph was never made. An exclamation from Moamade us all turn. The Gamma mirrors were quivering! Grantline had pickedour signals! With what undoubtedly was an intensified receivingequipment which Snap had not thought Grantline able to use, he hadcaught our faint zed-rays, which Snap was sending only to deceive Miko. And Grantline had recognized the _Planetara_, and had released hisocculting screens surrounding the radium ore. The Gamma rays were here, unmistakable!

And upon their heels came Grantline's message. Not in the secret systemhe had arranged with Snap, but unsuspectingly in open code. I could readthe swinging mirror, and so could Miko. 

And Miko decoded it triumphantly aloud:

"_Surprised but pleased your return. Approach Mid-Northern hemisphere, region of Archimedes, forty thousand toises[C] off nearest Apenninerange. _"

The message broke off. But even its importance was overshadowed. Mikostood in the center of the helio-room, triumphantly reading thelight-indicator. Its beam swung on the scale, which chanced to be almostdirectly over Anita's head. I saw Miko's expression change. A look ofsurprise, amazement came to him. 

"Why--"

He gasped. He stood staring. Almost stupidly staring for an instant. Andas I regarded him with fascinated horror, there came upon his heavy grayface a look of dawning comprehension. And I heard Snap's startled intakeof breath. He moved to the spectroheliograph, where the zed-rayconnections were still humming. 

But with a leap Miko flung him away. "Off with you! Moa, watch him!Haljan, don't move!"

 [C] About fifty miles. 

 * * * * *

Again Miko stood staring. Oh dear God, I saw now that he was staring atAnita!

"Why George Prince! How strange you look!"

Anita did not move. She was stricken with horror: she shrank backagainst the wall, huddled in her cloak. Miko's sardonic voice cameagain:

"How strange you look. Prince!" He took a step forward. He was grim andcalm. Horribly calm. Deliberate. Gloating--like a great gray monster inhuman form toying with a fascinated, imprisoned bird. 

"Move just a little Prince. Let the zed-ray light fall more fully. "

Anita's head was bare. That pale, Hamletlike face. Dear God, thezed-light reflection lay gray and penetrating upon it!

Miko took another step. Peering. Grinning. "How amazing, George Prince!Why, I can hardly believe it!"

Moa was armed with an electronic cylinder. For all her amazement--whatturgid emotions sweeping her I can only guess--she never took her eyesfrom Snap and me. 

"Back! Don't move, either of you!" She hissed it at us. 

Then Miko leaped at Anita like giant gray leopard pouncing. 

"Away with that cloak, Prince!"

 * * * * *

I stood cold and numbed. And realization came at last. The faintzed-light glow had fallen by chance upon Anita's face. Penetrated theflesh; exposed, faintly glowing, the bone-line of her jaw. Unmasked thewaxen art of Glutz. 

And Miko had seen it. 

"Why George, how surprising! Away with that cloak!"

He seized her wrist, drew her forward, beyond the shaft of zed-light, into the brilliant light of the Moon. And ripped her cloak from her. Thegentle curves of her woman's figure were so unmistakable!

And as Miko gazed at them, all his calm triumph swept away. 

"Why, Anita!"

I heard Moa mutter: "So that is it?" A venomous flashing look--a shaftfrom me to Anita and back again. "So that is it?"

"Why, _Anita_!"

Miko's great arms gathered her up as though she were a child. "So I haveyou back; from the dead delivered back to me!"

"Gregg!" Snap's warning, and his grip over my shoulders brought me ameasure of sanity. I had tensed to spring. I stood quivering, and Moathrust her weapon against my face. The helio mirrors were swaying againwith another message from Grantline. But it came ignored by us all. 

In the glare of moonlight by the forward window, Miko held Anita, hisgreat hands pawing her with triumphant possessive caresses. 

"So, little Anita, you are given back to me. "

Against her futile struggles he held her. 

Dear God, if only I had had the wit to have prevented this!

CHAPTER XX

_The Grantline Camp_

In the mid-northern hemisphere upon the Earthward side of the Moon, thegiant crater of Archimedes stood brooding in silent majesty. Grim, loftywalls, broken, pitted and scarred, rising precipitous to the uppercircular rim. Night had just fallen. The sunlight clung to thecrater-heights; it tinged with flame the jagged peaks of the ApennineMountains which rose in tiers at the horizon; and it flung great inkyshadows over the intervening lowlands. 

Northward, the Mare Imbrium stretched mysterious and purple, its millionrills and ridges and crater holes flattened by distance and thegathering darkness into a seeming level surface. The night slowlydeepened. The dead-black vault of the sky blazed with its brilliantstarry gems. The gibbous Earth hung high above the horizon, motionless, save for the invisible pendulum sway over the tiny arc, of itslibration: widening to quadrature, casting upon the bleak naked Lunarlandscape its mellow Earth-glow. 

Slow, measured process, this coming of the Lunar night! For an Earth-daythe sunset slowly faded on the Apennines; the poised Earth widened alittle further--an Earth-day of time, with the Earth-disc visiblyrotating, the faint tracery of its oceans and continents passing inslow, majestic review. 

Another Earth-day interval. Then another. And another. Full night nowenveloped Archimedes. Splotches of Earth-light and starlight sheenslowly shifted as the night advanced. 

Between the great crater and the nearby mountains, the broken, pseudo-level lowlands lay wan in the Earth-light. A few hundred miles, as distance would be measured upon Earth. A million million rills werehere. Valleys and ridges, ravines, sharp-walled canyons, cliffs andcrags--tiny craters like pock-marks. 

Naked, gray porous rock everywhere. This denuded landscape! Cracked andscarred and tumbled, as though some inexorable Titan torch had searedand crumbled and broken it, left it now congealed like a wind-lashed seaabruptly frozen into immobility. 

 * * * * *

Moonlight upon Earth so gently shines to make romantic a lover's smile!But the reality of the Lunar night is cold beyond human rationality. Cold and darkly silent. Grim desolation. Awesome. Majestic. A frowningmajesty that even to the most intrepid human beholder is inconceivablyforbidding. 

And there were humans here now. On this tumbled plain, betweenArchimedes and the mountains, one small crater amid the million of itsfellows was distinguished this night by the presence of humans. TheGrantline camp! It huddled in the deepest purple shadows on the side ofa bowl-like pit, a crudely circular orifice with a scant two milesacross its rippling rim. There was faint light here to mark the presenceof the living intruders. The blue-glow radiance of Morrell tube-lightsunder a spread of glassite. 

The Grantline camp stood mid-way up one of the inner cliff-walls of thelittle crater. The broken, rock-strewn floor, two miles wide, lay fivehundred feet below the camp. Behind it, the jagged precipitous cliffrose another five hundred to the heights of the upper rim. A broadlevel shelf hung midway up the cliff, and upon it Grantline had builthis little group of glassite dome shelters. Viewed from above there wasthe darkly purple crater floor, the upflung circular rim where theEarth-light tinged the spires and crags with yellow sheen; and on theshelf, like a huddled group of birds nests, Grantline's domes clung andgazed down upon the inner valley. 

Intricate task, the building of these glassite shelters! There werethree. The main one stood close at the brink of the ledge. A quadrangleof glassite walls, a hundred feet in length by half as wide, and a scantten feet high to its flat-arched dome roof. Built for this purpose inGreat-New York, Grantline had brought his aluminite girders and bracesand the glassite panels in sections. 

 * * * * *

The air here on the Moon surface was negligible--a scant onefive-thousandth of the atmospheric pressure at the sea-level on Earth. But within the glassite shelter, a normal Earth-pressure must bemaintained. Rigidly braced double walls to withstand the explosivetendency, with no external pressure to counteract it. A tremendousnecessity for mechanical equipment had burdened Grantline's smallship to its capacity. The chemistry of manufactured air, thepressure equalizers, renewers, respirators, the lighting andtemperature-maintenance systems--all the mechanics of a space-flyer werehere. 

And within the glassite double walls, there was necessity for a constantcirculation of the Erentz temperature insulating system. [D]

There was this main Grantline building, stretching low and rectangularalong the front edge of the ledge. Within it were living rooms, messroomand kitchen. Fifty feet behind it, connected by a narrow passage ofglassite, was a similar, though smaller structure. The mechanicalcontrol rooms, with their humming, vibrating mechanisms were here. Andan instrument room with signaling apparatus, senders, receivers, mirror-grids and audiphones of several varieties; and anelectro-telescope, small but modern, with dome overhead like a littleEarth observatory. 

From this instrument building, beside the connecting pedestrian passage, wire cables for light, and air-tubes and strings and bundles ofinstrument wires ran to the main structure--gray snakes upon theporous, gray Lunar rock. 

The third building seemed a lean-to banked against the cliff-wall, aslanting shed-wall of glassite fifty feet high and two hundred inlength. Under it, for months Grantline's borers had dug into the cliff. Braced tunnels were here, penetrating back and downward into this veinof radio-active rock. 

 [D] An intricate system of insulation against extremes of temperature, developed by the Erentz Kinetic Energy Corporation in the twenty-first century. Within the hollow double shell of a shelter-wall, or an explorer's helmet-suit, or a space-flyer's hull, an oscillating semi-vacuum current was maintained--an extremely rarified air, magnetically charged, and maintained in rapid oscillating motion. Across this field the outer cold, or heat, as the case might be, could penetrate only with slow radiation. This Erentz system gave the most perfect temperature insulation known in its day. Without it, interplanetary flight would have been impossible. 

 And it served a double purpose. Developed at first for temperature insulation only, the Erentz system surprisingly brought to light one of the most important discoveries made in the realm of physics of the century. It was found that any flashing, oscillating current, whether electronic, or the semi-vacuum of rarified air--or even a thin sheet of whirling fluid--gave also a pressure-insulation. The kinetic energy of the rapid movement was found to absorb within itself the latent energy of the unequal pressure. 

 (The intricate postulates and mathematical formulae necessary to demonstrate the operation of the physical laws involved would be out of place here. )

 The _Planetara_ was so equipped, against the explosive tendency of its inner air-pressures when flying in the near-vacuum of space. In the case of Grantline's glassite shelters, the latent energy of his room interior air pressure went largely into a kinetic energy which in practical effect resulted only in the slight acceleration of the vacuum current, and thus never reached the outer wall. The Erentz engineers claimed for their system a pressure absorption of 97. 4%, leaving, in Grantline's case, only 2. 6% of room pressure to be held by the building's aluminite bracers. 

 It may be interesting to note in this connection that without the Erentz system as a basis, the great sub-sea developments on Earth and Mars of the twenty-first century would also have been impossible. Equipped with a fluid circulation device of the Erentz principle within its double hull, the first submarine was able to penetrate the great ocean deeps, withstanding the tremendous ocean pressures at depths of four thousand fathoms. 

 * * * * *

The work was over now. The borers had been dismantled and packed away. At one end of the cliff the mining equipment lay piled in a litter. There was a heap of discarded ore where Grantline had carted and dumpedit after his first crude refining process had yielded it as waste. Theore-slag lay like gray powder-flakes strewn down the cliff. Tracks andore-carts along the ledge stood discarded, mute evidence of the weeksand months of work these helmeted miners had undergone, struggling uponthis airless, frowning world. 

But now all that was finished. The radio-active ore was sufficientlyconcentrated. It lay--this treasure--in a seventy-foot pile behind theglassite lean-to, with a cage of wires over it and an insulation barrageguarding its Gamma rays from escaping to mark its presence. 

The ore-shelter was dark; the other two buildings were lighted. Andthere were small lights mounted at intervals about the camp and alongthe edge of the ledge. A spider ladder, with tiny platforms some twentyfeet one above the other, hung precariously to the cliff-face. Itdescended the five hundred feet to the crater floor; and, behind thecamp, it mounted the jagged cliff-face to the upper rim-height, where asmall observatory platform was placed. 

 * * * * *

Such was the outer aspect of the Grantline Treasure Camp near thebeginning of this Lunar night, when, unbeknown to Grantline and hisscore of men, the _Planetara_ with its brigands was approaching. Thenight was perhaps a sixth advanced. Full night. No breath of cloud tomar the brilliant starry heavens. The quadrant Earth hung poised like agiant mellow moon over Grantline's crater. A bright Earth, yet no airwas here on this Lunar surface to spread its light. Only a glow, mingling with the spots of blue tube-light on the poles along the cliff, and the radiance from the lighted buildings. 

The crater floor was dimly purple. Beyond the opposite upper rim, fromthe camp-height, the towering top of distant Archimedes was visible. 

No evidence of movement showed about the silent camp. Then a pressuredoor in an end of the main building opened its tiny series of locks. Abent figure came out. The lock closed. The figure straightened and gazedabout the camp. Grotesque, bloated semblance of a man! Helmeted, withrounded dome-hood suggestion of an ancient sea diver, yet goggled andtrunked like a gas-masked fighter of the twentieth century war. 

He stooped presently and disconnected metal weights which were upon hisshoes. [E]

Then he stood erect again, and with giant strides bounded along thecliff. Fantastic figure in the blue-lit gloom! A child's dream of cragsand rocks and strange lights with a single monstrous figure inseven-league boots. 

He went the length of the ledge with his twenty-foot strides, inspectedthe lights, and made adjustments. Came back, and climbed with agile, bounding leaps up the spider ladder to the dome on the crater top. Alight flashed on up there. Then it was extinguished. 

The goggled, bloated figure came leaping down after a moment. Grantline's exterior watchman making his rounds. He came back to themain building. Fastened the weights on his shoes. Signaled within. 

The lock opened. The figure went inside. 

It was early evening, after the dinner hour and before the time ofsleep, according to the camp routine Grantline was maintaining. Nine P. M. Of Earth Eastern-American time, recorded now upon his Earthchronometer. In the living room of the main building Johnny Grantlinesat with a dozen of his men dispersed about the room, whiling away asbest they could the lonesome hours. 

 [E] Within the Grantline buildings it was found more convenient to use a gravity normal to Earth. This was maintained by the wearing of metal-weighted shoes and metal-loaded belt. The Moon-gravity is normally approximately one-sixth the gravity of Earth. 

 * * * * *

"All as usual. This cursed Moon! When I get home--if ever I do gethome--"

"Say your say, Wilks. But you'll spend your share of the gold-leaf andthank your constellations that you had your chance!"

"Let him alone! Come on, Wilks, take a hand here. This game is no goodwith three. "

The man who had been outside flung his hissing helmet recklessly to thefloor and unsealed his suit. "Here, get me out of this. No, I won'tplay. I can't play your cursed game with nothing at stake!"

"Commissioner's orders. "

A laugh went up at the sharp look Johnny Grantline flung from where hesat reading in a corner of the room. 

"Commander's orders. No gambling gold-leafers tolerated here. "

"Play the game, Wilks. " Grantline said quietly. "We all know it'sinfernal doing nothing. "

"He's been struck by Earth-light, " another man laughed. "Commander, Itold you not to let that guy Wilks out at night. "

 * * * * *

A rough but good-natured lot of men. Jolly and raucous by nature intheir leisure hours. But there was too much leisure here now. Theirmirth had a hollow sound. In older times, explorers of the frozen polarzones had to cope with inactivity, loneliness and despair. But at leastthey were on their native world. The grimness of the Moon was eatinginto the courage of Grantline's men. An unreality here. A weirdness. These fantastic crags. The deadly silence. The nights, almost two weeksof Earth-time in length, congealed by the deadly frigidity of Space. Thedays of black sky, blaring stars and flaming Sun, with no atmosphere todiffuse the daylight. Days of weird blending sheen of illumination withmost of the Sun's heat radiating so swiftly from the naked Lunar surfacethat the outer temperature still was cold. And day and night, always thefamiliar beloved Earth-disc hanging poised up near the zenith. Fromthinnest crescent to full Earth, and then steadily back again tocrescent. 

All so abnormal, irrational, disturbing to human senses. With the miningwork over, an irritability grew upon Grantline's men. And perhaps sincethe human mind is so wonderful, elusive a thing, there lay upon thesemen an indefinable sense of impending disaster. Johnny Grantline feltit. He thought about it now as he sat in the room corner watching Wilksbeing forced into the plaget-game, and he found it strong within him. Unreasonable, ominous depression! Barring the accident which haddisabled his little space-ship when they reached this small crater hole, his expedition had gone well. His instruments, and the information hehad from the former explorers, had picked up the ore-vein with a scantmonth of search. 

 * * * * *

The vein had now been exhausted; but the treasure was here. Nothing wasleft but to wait for the _Planetara_. The men were talking of that now. 

"She ought to be well mid-way from here to Ferrok-Shahn by now. When doyou figure she'll be back here, and signal us?"

"Twenty days. Give her another five now to Mars, and five in port. That's ten. We'll pick her signals in three weeks, mark me. "

"Three weeks! Just give me three weeks of reasonable sunrise and sunset!This cursed Moon! You mean, Williams, next daylight. "

"Hah! He's inventing a Lunar language. You'll be a Moon-man yet, if youlive here long enough. "

Olaf Swenson, the big blond fellow from the Scandia fiords, came andflung himself down by Grantline. 

"Ay tank they bane without not enough to do, Commander. If the ore yustwould not give out--"

"Three weeks--it isn't very long, Ollie. "

"No. Maybe not. "

From across the room somebody was saying, "If the _Comet_ hadn't smashedon us, damn me but I'd ask the Commander to let some of us take herback. The discarded equipment could go. "

"Shut up, Billy. She is smashed. "

The little _Comet_, cruising in search of the ore, had come to griefjust as the ore was found. It lay now on the crater floor with its nosebashed into an upflung spire of rock. Wrecked beyond repair. Save forthe pre-arrangement with the _Planetara_, the Grantline party would havebeen helpless here on the Moon. Knowledge of that--although no one eversuspected but that the _Planetara_ would come safely--served to add tothe men's depression. They were cut off, virtually helpless on a strangeworld. Their signalling devices were inadequate even to reach Earth. Grantline's power batteries were running low. [F] He could not attemptwide-flung signals without jeopardizing the power necessary for theroutine of his camp in the event of the _Planetara_ being delayed. Norwas his electro-telescope adequate to pick small objects at any greatdistance. [G]

All of Grantline's effort, in truth, had gone into equipment for thefinding and gathering of the treasure. The safety of the expedition hadto that extent been neglected. 

Swenson was mentioning that now. 

"You all agreed to it, " Johnny said shortly. "Every man here voted that, above everything, what we wanted was to get the radium. "

 [F] The Gravely storage tanks--the power used by the Grantline expedition--were heavy and bulky affairs. Economy of space on the Comet allowed but few of them. 

 [G] Electro-telescopes of most modern use and power were too large and used too much power to be available to Grantline. 

 * * * * *

A dynamic little fellow, this Johnny Grantline. Short of tempersometimes, but always just, and a perfect leader of men. In stature hewas almost as small as Snap. But he was thick-set, with a smooth shaven, keen-eyed, square-jawed face, and a shock of brown tousled hair. A manof thirty-five, though the decision of his manner, the quiet dominanceof his voice, mode him seem older. He stood up now, surveying theblue-lit glassite room with its low ceiling close overhead. He wasbowlegged; in movement he seemed to roll with a stiff-legged gait likesome sea captain of former days on the deck of his swaying ship. Queer-looking figure! Heavy flannel shirt and trousers, boots heavilyweighted, and bulky metal-loaded belt strapped about his waist. 

He grinned at Swenson. "When we divide this treasure, everyone will behappy, Ollie. "

The treasure was estimated by Grantline to be the equivalent of ninetymillions in gold-leaf. A hundred and ten millions in the gross as it nowstood, with twenty millions to be deducted by the Federated Refiners forreducing it to the standard purity of commercial radium. Ninetymillions, with only a million and a half to come off for expeditionexpenses, and the _Planetara_ Company's share another million. A nicelittle stake. 

Grantline strode across the room with his rolling gait. 

"Cheer up, boys. Who's winning there? I say, you fellows--"

An audiphone buzzer interrupted him, a call from the duty man in theinstrument room of the nearby building. 

Grantline clicked the receiver. The room fell into silence. Any call wasunusual--nothing ever happened here in the camp. 

The duty man's voice sounded over the room. 

"Signals coming! Not clear. Will you come over, Commander?"

Signals!

 * * * * *

It was never Grantline's way to enforce needless discipline. He offeredno objection when every man in the camp rushed through the connectingpassages. They crowded the instrument room where the tense duty man satbending over his helio receivers. The mirrors were swaying. 

The duty man looked up and met Grantline's gaze. 

"I ran it up to the highest intensity. Commander. We ought to getit--not let it pass. "

"Low scale, Peter?"

"Yes. Weakest infra-red. I'm bringing it up, even though it uses toomuch of our power. " The duty man was apologetic. 

"Get it, " said Grantline shortly. 

"I had a swing a minute ago. I think it's the _Planetara_. "

"_Planetara!_" The crowding group of men chorused it. How could it bethe _Planetara_?

But it was. The call presently came in clear. Unmistakably the_Planetara_, turned back now from her course to Ferrok-Shahn. 

"How far away, Peter?"

The duty man consulted the needles of his dial scale. "Close! Very weakinfra-red. But close. Around thirty thousand miles, maybe. It's SnapDean calling. "

The _Planetara_ here within thirty thousand miles! Excitement andpleasure swept the room. The _Planetara's_ coming had for so long beenawaited so eagerly!

The excitement communicated to Grantline. It was unlike him to beincautious; yet now with no thought save that some unforeseen andpleasing circumstance had brought the _Planetara_ ahead of time;incautious Grantline certainly was. 

"Raise the ore-barrage. "

"I'll go! My suit is here. "

 * * * * *

A willing volunteer rushed out to the ore-shed. The Gamma rays, which inthe helio-room of the _Planetara_ came so unwelcome to Snap and me, wereloosed. 

"Can you send, Peter?" Grantline demanded. 

"Yes, with more power. "

"Use it. "

Johnny dictated the message of his location which we received. In hisincautious excitement he ignored the secret code. 

An interval passed. The ore was occulted again. No message had come fromus--just Snap's routine signal in the weak infra-red, which we hopedGrantline would not get. 

The men crowding Grantline's instrument room waited in tense silence. Then Grantline tried the telescope. Its current weakened the lights withthe drain upon the distributors, and cooled the room with a suddendeadly chill as the Erentz insulating system slowed down. 

The duty man looked suddenly frightened. "You'll bulge out our walls, Commander. The internal pressure--"

"We'll chance it. "

They picked up the image of the _Planetara_! It came from the telescopeand shone clear on the grid--the segment of star-field with a tiny, cigar-shaped blob. Clear enough to be unmistakable. The _Planetara_!Here now over the Moon, almost directly overhead, poised at what thealtimeter scale showed to be a fraction under thirty thousand miles. 

The men gazed in awed silence. The _Planetara_ coming. .. . 

But the altimeter needle was motionless. The _Planetara_ was hangingpoised. 

A sudden gasp went about the room. The men stood with whitening faces, gazing at the _Planetara's_ image. And at the altimeter needle. It wasmoving. The _Planetara_ was descending. But not with an orderly swoop. 

The image showed the ship clearly. The bow tilted up, then dipped down. But then in a moment it swung up again. The ship turned partly over. Righted itself. Then swayed again, drunkenly. 

The watching men were stricken into horrified silence. The _Planetara's_image momentarily, horribly, grew larger. Swaying. Then turningcompletely over, rotating slowly end over end. 

The _Planetara_, out of control, was falling!

CHAPTER XXI

_The Wreck of the_ Planetara

On the _Planetara_, in the helio-room, Snap and I stood with Moa'sweapon upon us. Miko held Anita. Triumphant. Possessive. Then as shestruggled, a gentleness came to this strange Martian giant. Perhaps hereally loved her. Looking back on it, I sometimes think so. 

"Anita, do not fear me. " He held her away from him. "I would not harmyou. I want your love. " Irony came to him. "And I thought I had killedyou! But it was only your brother. "

He partly turned. I was aware of how alert was his attention. Hegrinned. "Hold them, Moa--don't let them do anything foolish. So, Anita, you were masquerading to spy upon me? That was wrong of you. " He wasagain ironic. 

Anita had not spoken. She held herself tensely away from Miko; she hadflashed me a look--just one. What horrible mischance to have broughtthis catastrophe!

The completion of Grantline's message had come unnoticed by us all. 

"Look! Grantline again!" Snap said abruptly. 

But the mirrors were steadying. We had no recording-tape apparatus; therest of the message was lost. The mirrors pulsed and then steadied. 

No further message came. There was an interval while Miko waited. Heheld Anita in the hollow of his great arm. 

"Quiet, little bird. Do not fear me. I have work to do, Anita--this isour great adventure. We will be rich, you and I. All the luxuries threeworlds can offer, all for us when this is over. Careful, Moa! ThisHaljan has no wit. "

Well could he say it! I, who had been so witless to let this come uponus! Moa's weapon prodded me. Her voice hissed at me with all the venomof a reptile enraged. "So that was your game, Gregg Haljan! And I was sograceless to admit love for you!"

 * * * * *

Snap murmured in my ear, "Don't move, Gregg! She's reckless. "

She heard it. She whirled on him. "We have lost George Prince, it seems. Well, we will survive without his ore knowledge. And you, Dean--and thisHaljan--mark me, I will kill you both if you cause trouble!"

Miko was gloating. "Don't kill them yet, Moa. What was it Grantlinesaid? Near the crater of Archimedes? Ring us down, Haljan! We'll land. "

He signaled the turret. Gave Coniston the Grantline message, andaudiphoned it below to Hahn. The news spread about the ship. The banditswere jubilant. 

"We'll land now, Haljan. Ring us down. Come, Anita and I will go withyou to the turret. "

I found my voice. "To what destination?"

"Near Archimedes. The Apennine side. Keep well away from the Grantlinecamp. We will probably sight it as we descend. "

There was no trajectory needed. We were almost over Archimedes now. Icould drop us with a visible, instrumental course. My mind was whirlingwith a confusion of thoughts. What could we do? What could we dareattempt to do? I met Snap's gaze. 

"Ring us down, Gregg, " he said quietly. 

I nodded. I pushed Moa's weapon away. "You don't need that. I obeyorders. "

 * * * * *

We went to the turret. Moa watched me and Snap, a grim, cold Amazon. Sheavoided looking at Anita, whom Miko helped down the ladders with astrange mixture of courtierlike grace and amused irony. Coniston gazedat Anita with falling jaw. 

"I say! Not George Prince? The girl--"

"No time for argument now, " Miko commanded. "It's the girl, masqueradingas her brother. Get below, Coniston. Haljan takes us down. "

The astounded Englishman continued gazing at Anita. "I mean to say, where to on the Moon? Not to encounter Grantline at once, Miko? Ourequipment is not ready. "

"Of course not. We will land well away. He won't be suspicious--we cansignal him again after we land. We will have time to plan, to assemblethe equipment. Get below, I told you. "

The reluctant Coniston left us. I took the controls. Miko, still holdingAnita as though she were a child, sat beside me. "We will watch him, little Anita. A skilled fellow at this sort of work. "

I rang my signals for the shifting of the gravity plates. The answershould have come from below within a second or two. But it did not. Mikoregarded me with his great bushy eyebrows upraised. 

"Ring again, Haljan. "

I duplicated. No answer. The silence was frightening. Ominous. 

Miko muttered, "That accursed Hahn. Ring again!"

I sent the imperative emergency demand. 

 * * * * *

No answer. A second or two. Then all of us in the turret were startled. Transfixed. From below came a sudden hiss. It sounded in the turret: itcame from shifting-room call-grid. The hissing of the pneumatic valvesof the plate-shifters in the lower control room. The valves wereopening; the plates automatically shifting into neutral, anddisconnecting!

An instant of startled silence. Miko may have realized the significanceof what had happened. Certainly Snap and I did. The hissing ceased. Igripped the emergency plate-shifter switch which hung over my head. Itsdisc was dead! The plates were dead in neutral. In the positions theywere only placed while in port! And their shifting mechanisms wereimperative!

I was on my feet. "Snap! Good God, we're in neutral!"

Miko, if he had not realized it before, was aware if it now. TheMoon-disc moved visibly as the _Planetara_ lurched. The vault of theheavens was slowly swinging. 

Miko ripped out a heavy oath. "Haljan! What is this?"

He stood up, still holding Anita. But there was nothing that he could doin this emergency. "Haljan--what--"

The heavens turned with a giant swoop. The Moon was over us. It swung indizzying arc. Overhead, then back past our stern; under us, thenappearing over our bow. 

The _Planetara_ had turned over. Upending. Rotating, end over end. 

For a moment or two I think all of us in that turret stood and clung. The Moon-disc, the Earth, Sun and all the stars were swinging past ourwindows. So horribly dizzying. The _Planetara_ seemed lurching andtumbling. But it was an optical effect only. I stared with grimdetermination at my feet. The turret seemed to steady. 

Then I looked again. That horrible swoop of all the heavens! And theMoon, as it went past, seemed expanded. We were falling! Out of control, with the Moon-gravity pulling us inexorably down!

"That accursed Hahn--" Miko, stricken with his lack of knowledge ofthese controls, was wholly confused. 

 * * * * *

A moment only had passed. My fancy that the Moon-disc was enlarged wasmerely the horror of my imagination. We had not fallen far enough yetfor that. 

But we were falling. Unless I could do something, we would crash uponthe Lunar surface. 

Anita, killed in this _Planetara_ turret. The end of everything for us. 

Action came to me. I gasped, "Miko, you stay here! The controls aredead! You stay here--hold Anita. "

I ignored Moa's weapon which she was still clutching mechanically. Snapthrust her away. 

"Sit back! Let us alone! We're falling! Don't you understand?"

This deadly danger, to level us all! No longer were we captors andcaptured. Not brigands for this moment. No thought of Grantline'streasure! Trapped humans only! Leveled by the common, instinct ofself-preservation. Trapped here together, fighting for our lives. 

Miko gasped. "Can you--check us? What happened?"

"I don't know. I'll try. "

I stood clinging. This dizzying whirl! From the audiphone gridConiston's voice sounded. 

"I say, Haljan, something's wrong! Hahn doesn't signal. "

The look-out in the forward tower was clinging to his window. On thedeck below our turret a member of the crew appeared, stood lurching fora moment, then shouted, and turned and ran, swaying, aimless. From thelower hull-corridors our grids sounded with the tramping of runningsteps. Panic among the crew was spreading over the ship. A chaos belowdecks. 

 * * * * *

I pulled at the emergency switch again. Dead. .. . 

But down below there was the manual controls. 

"Snap, we must get down. The signals. "

"Yes. "

Coniston's voice came like a scream from the grid. "Hahn is dead--thecontrols are broken! Hahn is dead!"

We barely heard him. I shouted, "Miko--hold Anita! Come on, Snap!"

We clung to the ladders. Snap was behind me. "Careful, Gregg! Good God!"

This dizzying whirl. I tried not to look. The deck under me was now ablurred kaleidoscope of swinging patches of moonlight and shadow. 

We reached the deck. Ran, swaying, lurching. 

It seemed that from the turret Anita's voice followed us. "Be careful!"

Within the ship our senses steadied. With the rotating, reeling, heavensshut out, there were only the shouts and tramping steps of thepanic-stricken crew to mark that anything was amiss. That, and apseudo-sensation of lurching caused by the pulsing of gravity--a pullwhen the Moon was beneath our hull to combine its force with ourmagnetizers; a lightening when it was overhead. A throbbing, pendulumlurch--that was all. 

We ran down to the corridor incline. A white-faced member of the crew, came running up. 

"What's happened? Haljan, what's happened?"

"We're falling!" I gripped him. "Get below. Come on with us!"

But he jerked away from me. "Falling?"

A steward came running. "Falling? My God!"

Snap swung at them. "Get ahead of us! The manual controls--our onlychance--we need all you men at the compressor pumps!"

But it was an instinct to try and get on deck, as though here below wewere rats caught in a trap. The men tore away from me and ran. Theirshouts of panic resounded through the dim, blue-lit corridors. 

 * * * * *

Coniston came lurching from the control room. "I say--falling! Haljan, my God, look at him!"

Hahn was sprawled at the gravity-plate switchboard. Sprawled, head-down. Dead. Killed by something? Or a suicide?

I bent over him. His hands gripped the main switch. He had ripped itloose. And his left hand had reached and broken the fragile line oftubes that intensified the current of the pneumatic plate-shifters. Asuicide? With his last frenzy determined to kill us all?

Then I saw that Hahn had been killed! Not a suicide! In his hand hegripped a small segment of black fabric, a piece torn from an invisiblecloak? Was it?

The questions were swept away by the necessity for action. Snap wasrigging the hand-compressors. If he could get the pressure back in thetanks. .. . 

I swung on Coniston. "You armed?"

"Yes. " He was white-faced and confused, but not in a panic. He showed mehis heat-ray cylinder. "What do you want me to do?"

"Round up the crew. Get all you can. Bring them here to man thesepumps. "

He dashed away. Snap shouted after him. "Kill them down if they argue!"

Miko's voice sounded from the turret call grid: "Falling! Haljan, youcan see it now! Check us!"

I did not answer that. I pumped with Snap. 

Desperate moments. Or was it an hour? Coniston brought the men. He stoodover them with menacing weapon. 

We had all the pumps going. The pressure rose a little in the tanks. Enough to shift a bow-plate. I tried it. The plate slowly clicked into anew combination. A gravity repulsion just in the bow-tip. 

 * * * * *

I signaled Miko. "Have we stopped swinging?"

"No. But slower. "

I could feel it, that lurch of the gravity. But not steady now. A limp. The tendency of our bow was to stay up. 

"More pressure, Snap. "

"Yes. "

One of the crew rebelled, tried to bolt from the room. "God, we'llcrash, caught in here!"

Coniston shot him down. 

I shifted another bow-plate. Then two in the stern. The stern-platesseemed to move more readily than the others. 

"Run all the stern-plates, " Snap advised. 

I tried it. The lurching stopped. Miko called. "We're bow down. Falling!"

But not falling free. The Moon-gravity pull upon us was more than halfneutralized. 

"I'll go up, Snap, and try the engines. You don't mind staying down?Executing my signals?"

"You idiot!" He gripped my shoulders. His eyes were gleaming, his facehaggard, but his pale lips twitched with a smile. 

"Maybe it's good-by, Gregg. We'll fall--fighting. "

"Yes. Fighting. Coniston, you keep the pressure up. "

With the broken set-tubes it took nearly all the pressure to maintainthe few plates I had shifted. One slipped back to neutral. Then thepumps gained on it, and it shifted again. 

I dashed up to the deck. Ah, the Moon was so close now! So horriblyclose! The deck shadows were still. Through the forward bow windows theMoon surface glared up at us. 

 * * * * *

I reached the turret. The _Planetara_ was steady. Pitched bow-down, halffalling, half sliding like a rocket downward. The scarred surface of theMoon spread wide under us. 

These last horrible minutes were a blur. And there was always Anita'sface. She left Miko. Faced with death, he sat clinging. Ignoring her, Moa, too, sat apart. Staring--

And Anita crept to me. "Gregg, dear one. The end. .. . "

I tried the electronic engines from the stern, setting them in thereverse. The streams of their light glowed from the stern, forwardalong our hull, and flared down from our bow toward the Lunar surface. But no atmosphere was here to give resistance. Perhaps the electronicstreams checked our fall a little. The pumps gave us pressure, just inthe last minutes, to slide a few of the hull-plates. But our bow stayeddown. We slid, like a spent rocket falling. 

I recall the horror of that expanding Lunar surface. The maw ofArchimedes yawning. A blob. Widening to a great pit. Then I saw it wasto one side. Rushing upward. 

A phantasmagoria of uprushing crags. Black and gray. Spires tinged withEarth-light. 

"Gregg, dear one--good-by. "

Her gentle arms around me. The end of everything for us. I recallmurmuring, "Not falling free, Anita. Some hull-plates are set. "

My dials showed another plate shifting, checking us a little further. Good old Snap. 

I calculated the next best plate to shift. I tried it. Slid it over. Good old Snap. .. . 

Then everything faded but the feeling of Anita's arms around me. 

"Gregg, dear one--"

The end of everything for us. .. . 

There was an up-rush of gray-black rock. 

An impact. .. . 

CHAPTER XXII

_The Hiss of Death_

I opened my eyes to a dark blur of confusion. My shoulder hurt--a painshooting through it. Something lay like a weight on me. I could not seemto move my left arm. Very queer! Then I moved it, and it hurt. I waslying twisted: I sat up. And with a rush, memory came. The crash wasover. I am not dead. Anita--

She was lying beside me. There was a little light here in this silentblur--a soft, mellow Earth-light filtering in the window. The weight onme was Anita. She lay sprawled, her head and shoulders half way acrossmy lap. 

Not dead! Thank God, not dead! She moved. Her arms went around me, and Ilifted her. The Earth-light glowed on her pale face; but her eyes openedand she faintly smiled. 

"It's past, Anita! We've struck, and we're still alive. "

I held her as though all life's turgid danger were powerless to touchus. 

But in the silence my floating senses were brought back to reality by afaint sound forcing itself upon me. A little hiss. The faintestmurmuring breath like a hiss. Escaping air!

I cast off her clinging arms. "Anita, this is madness!"

 * * * * *

For minutes we must have been lying there in the heaven of our embrace. But air was escaping! The _Planetara's_ dome was broken--or cracked--andour precious air was hissing out. 

Full reality came to me at last. I was not seriously injured. I foundthat I could move freely. I could stand. A twisted shoulder, a limp leftarm, but they were better in a moment. 

And Anita did not seem to be hurt. Blood was upon her. But not herblood. 

Beside Anita, stretched face down on the turret grid, was the giantfigure of Miko. The blood lay in a small pool against his face. Awidening pool. 

Moa was here. I thought her body twitched; then was still. Thissoundless wreckage! In the dim glow of the wrecked turret with its twomotionless, broken human figures, it seemed as though Anita and I wereghouls prowling. I saw that the turret had fallen over to the_Planetara's_ deck. It lay dashed against the dome-side. 

The deck was aslant. A litter of wreckage. A broken human figureshowed--one of the crew, who at the last must have come running up. Theforward observation tower was down on the chart-room roof: in its metaltangle I thought I could see the legs of the tower look-out. 

So this was the end of the brigands' adventure! The _Planetara's_ lastvoyage! How small and futile are human struggles! Miko's daringenterprise--so villainous, inhuman--brought all in a few moments to thissilent tragedy. The _Planetara_ had fallen thirty thousand miles. Butwhy? What had happened to Hahn? And where was Coniston, down in thisbroken hull?

And Snap. I thought suddenly of Snap. 

 * * * * *

I clutched at my wandering wits. This inactivity was death. The escapingair hissed in my ears. Our precious air, escaping away into the vacantdesolation of the Lunar emptiness. Through one of the twisted, slantingdome-windows a rocky spire was visible. The _Planetara_ lay bow-down, wedged in a jagged cradle of Lunar rock. A miracle that the hull anddome had held together. 

"Anita, we must get out of here!"

I thought I was fully alert now. I recalled that the brigands had spokenof having partly assembled their Moon equipment. If only we could findsuits and helmets!

"We must get out, " I repeated. "Get to Grantline's camp. "

"Their helmets are in the forward storage room, Gregg. I saw themthere. "

She was staring at the fallen Miko and Moa. She shuddered and turnedaway and gripped me. "In the forward storage room, by the port of theemergency lock-exit. "

If only the exit locks would operate! We must get out of here, but findSnap first. Good old Snap! Would we find him lying dead?

We climbed from the slanting, fallen turret, over the wreckage of thelittered deck. It was not difficult, a lightness was upon us. The_Planetara's_ gravity-magnetizers were dead: this was only the lightMoon-gravity pulling us. 

"Careful, Anita. Don't jump too freely. "

We leaped along the deck. The hiss of the escaping pressure was like aclanging gong of warning to tell us to hurry. The hiss of death soclose!

"Snap--" I murmured. 

"Oh, Gregg. I pray we may find him alive--!"

"And get out. We've got to rush it. Get out and find the Grantlinecamp. "

 * * * * *

But how far? Which way? I must remember to take food and water. If thehelmets were equipped with admission ports. If we could find Snap. Ifthe exit locks would work to let us out. 

With a fifteen foot leap we cleared a pile of broken deck chairs. A manlay groaning near them. I went back with a rush. Not Snap! A steward. Hehad been a brigand, but he was a steward to me now. 

"Get up! This is Haljan. Hurry, we must get out of here. The air isescaping!"

But he sank back and lay still. No time to find if I could help him:there were Anita and Snap to save. 

We found a broken entrance to one of the descending passages. I flungthe debris aside and cleared it. Like a giant of strength with only thisMoon-gravity holding me, I raised a broken segment of the superstructureand heaved it back. 

Anita and I dropped ourselves down the sloping passage. The interior ofthe wrecked ship was silent and dim. An occasional passage light wasstill burning. The passage and all the rooms lay askew. Wreckageeverywhere: but the double-dome and hull-shell had withstood the shock. Then I realized that the Erentz system was slowing down. Our heat, likeour air, was escaping, radiating away, a deadly chill settling uponeverything. And our walls were bulging. The silence and the deadly chillof death would soon be here in these wrecked corridors. The end of the_Planetara_. I wondered vaguely if the walls would explode. 

We prowled like ghouls. We did not see Coniston. Snap had been by theshifter-pumps. We found him in the oval doorway. He lay sprawled. Dead?No, he moved. He sat up before we could get to him. He seemed confused, but his senses clarified with the movement of our figures over him. 

"Gregg! Why, Anita!"

"Snap! You're all right? We struck--the air is escaping. "

 * * * * *

He pushed me away. He tried to stand. "I'm all right. I was up a minuteago. Gregg, it's getting cold. Where is she? I had her here--she wasn'tkilled. I spoke to her. "

Irrational!

"Snap!" I held him, shook him. "Snap, old fellow!"

He said, normally. "Easy, Gregg. I'm all right now. "

Anita gripped him. "Who, Snap?"

"She! There she is. "

Another figure was here! On the grid-floor by the door oval. A figurepartly shrouded in a broken invisible cloak and hood. An invisiblecloak! I saw a white face with opened eyes regarding me. The face of agirl. 

Venza!

I bent down. "You!"

Anita cried, "Venza!"

Venza here? Why--how--my thoughts swept away. Venza here, dying? Hereyes closed. But she murmured to Anita. "Where is he? I want him. "

Dying? I murmured impulsively, "Here I am, Venza dear. " Gently, as onewould speak with gentle sympathy to humor the dying. "Here I am, Venza. "

But it was only the confusion of the shock upon her. And it was upon usall. She pushed at Anita. "I want him. " She saw me. This whimsical Venusgirl! Even here as we gathered, all of us blurred by the shock, confusedin the dim, wrecked ship with the chill of death coming--even here shecould make a jest. Her pale lips smiled. 

"You, Gregg. I'm not hurt--I don't think I'm hurt. " She managed to getherself up on one elbow. "Did you think I wanted you with my dyingbreath? Why, what conceit! Not you, Handsome Haljan! I was callingSnap. "

 * * * * *

He was down to her. "We're all right, Venza. It's over. We must get outof the ship--the air is escaping. "

We gathered in the oval doorway. We fought the confusion of panic. 

"The exit port is this way. "

Or was it? I answered Snap, "Yes, I think so. "

The ship suddenly seemed a stranger to me. So cold. So vibrationless. Broken lights. These slanting, wrecked corridors. With the ventilatingfans stilled, the air was turning fetid. Chilling. And thinning, withescaping pressure, rarifying so that I could feel the grasp of it in mylungs and the pin-pricks of my burning cheeks. 

We started off. Four of us, still alive in this silent ship of death. Myblurred thoughts tried to cope with it all. Venza here. I recalled howshe had bade me create a diversion when the women passengers werelanding on the asteroid. She had carried out her purpose! In theconfusion she had not gone ashore. A stowaway here. She had secured thecloak. Prowling, to try and help us, she had come upon Hahn. Had seizedhis ray-cylinder and struck him down, and been herself knockedunconscious by his dying lunge, which also had broken the tubes andwrecked the _Planetara_. And Venza, unconscious, had been lying herewith the mechanism of her cloak still operating, so that we did not seeher when we came and found why Hahn did not answer my signals. 

"It's here, Gregg. "

Snap and I lifted the pile of Moon equipment. We located four suits andhelmets and the mechanisms to operate them. 

"More are in the chart-room, " Anita said. 

But we needed no others. I robed Anita, and showed her the mechanisms. 

"Yes. I understand. "

 * * * * *

Snap was helping Venza. We were all stiff from the cold; but within thesuits and their pulsing currents, the blessed warmth came again. 

The helmets had admission ports through which food and drink could betaken. I stood with my helmet ready. Anita, Venza and Snap were bloatedand grotesque beside me. We had found food and water here, assembled inportable cases which the brigands had prepared. Snap lifted them, andsigned to me he was ready. 

My helmet shut out all sounds save my own breathing, my pounding heart, and the murmur of the mechanism. The blessed warmth and pure air weregood. 

We reached the hull port-locks. They operated! We went through in thelight of the head-lamps over our foreheads. 

I closed the locks after us. An instinct to keep the air in the ship forthe other trapped humans lying there. 

We slid down the sloping side of the _Planetara_. We were unweighted, irrationally agile with the slight gravity. I fell a dozen feet andlanded with barely a jar. 

We were out on the Lunar surface. A great sloping ramp of cragsstretched down before us. Gray-black rock tinged with Earth-light. TheEarth hung amid the stars in the blackness overhead like a huge sectionof glowing yellow ball. 

 * * * * *

This grim, desolate, silent landscape! Beyond the ramp, fifty feet belowus, a tumbled naked plain stretched away into blurred distance. But Icould see mountains off there. Behind us the towering, frowningrampart-wall of Archimedes loomed against the sky. 

I had turned to look back at the _Planetara_. She lay broken, wedgedbetween spires of upstanding rock. A few of her lights still gleamed. The end of the _Planetara_!

The three grotesque figures of Anita, Venza and Snap had started off. Hunchback figures with the tanks mounted on their shoulders. I boundedand caught them. I touched Snap. We made audiphone contact. 

"Which way do you think?" I demanded. 

"I think this way, down the ramp. Away from Archimedes, toward themountains. It shouldn't be too far. "

"You run with Venza. I'll hold Anita. "

He nodded. "But we must keep together, Gregg. "

We could soon run freely. Down the ramp, out over the tumbled plain. Bounding, grotesque leaping strides. The girls were more agile, moreskilful. They were soon leading us. The Earth-shadows of their figuresleaped beside them. The _Planetara_ faded into the distance behind us. Archimedes stood back there. Ahead, the mountains came closer. 

An hour perhaps. I lost count of time. Occasionally we stopped to rest. Were we going toward the Grantline camp? Would they see our tiny wavingheadlights?

Another interval. Then far ahead of us on the ragged plain, lightsshowed! Moving tiny spots of light! Headlights on helmeted figures!

We ran, monstrously leaping. A group of figures were off there. Grantline's party? Snap gripped me. 

"Grantline! We're safe, Gregg! Safe!"

 * * * * *

He took his bulb-light from his helmet: we stood in a group while hewaved it. A semaphore signal. 

"_Grantline?_"

And the answer came. "_Yes. You, Dean?_"

Their personal code. No doubt of this--it was Grantline, who had seenthe _Planetara_ fall and had come to help us. 

I stood then with my hand holding Anita. And I whispered, "It'sGrantline! We're safe, Anita, my darling!"

Death had been so close! Those horrible last minutes on the _Planetara_had shocked us, marked us. 

We stood trembling. And Grantline and his men came bounding up. 

A helmeted figure touched me. I saw through the helmet-pane the visageof a stern-faced, square-jawed, youngish man. 

"Grantline? Johnny Grantline?"

"Yes, " said his voice at my ear-grid. "I'm Grantline. You're Haljan?Gregg Haljan?"

They crowded around us. Gripped us to hear our explanations. 

Brigands! It was amazing to Johnny Grantline. But the menace was overnow, over as soon as Grantline had realized its existence. As though thewreck of the _Planetara_ were foreordained by an all-wise Providence, the brigands' adventure had come to tragedy. 

We stood for a time discussing it. Then I drew apart, leaving Snap withGrantline. And Anita joined me. I held her arm so that we had audiphonecontact. 

"Anita, mine. "

"Gregg, dear one. "

Murmured nothings which mean so much to lovers!

 * * * * *

As we stood in the fantastic gloom of the Lunar desolation, with theblessed Earth-light on us, I sent up a prayer of thankfulness. Not thata hundred millions of treasure were saved. Not that the attack uponGrantline had been averted. But only that Anita was given back to me. Inmoments of greatest emotion the human mind individualizes. To me, therewas only Anita. 

Life is very strange! The gate to the shining garden of our love seemedswinging wide to let us in. Yet I recall that a vague fear still lay onme. A premonition?

I felt a touch on my arm. A bloated helmet visor was thrust near my own. I saw Snap's face peering at me. 

"Grantline thinks we should return to the _Planetara_. Might find someof them alive. "

Grantline touched me. "It's only humanity. "

"Yes, " I said. 

We went back. Some ten of us--a line of grotesque figures bounding withslow, easy strides over the jagged, rock-strewn plain. Our lights dancedbefore us. 

The _Planetara_ came at last into view. My ship. Again that pang sweptme as I saw her. This, her last resting place. She lay here in her opentomb, shattered, broken, unbreathing. The lights on her wereextinguished. The Erentz system had ceased to pulse--the heart of thedying ship, for a while beating faintly, but now at rest. 

We left the two girls with some of Grantline's men at the admissionport. Snap, Grantline and I, with three others, went inside. There stillseemed to be air, but not enough so that we dared remove our helmets. 

It was dark inside the wrecked ship. The corridors were black; the hullcontrol-rooms were dimly illumined with Earth-light straggling throughthe windows. 

This littered tomb! Already cold and silent with death. We stumbled overa fallen figure. A member of the crew. 

 * * * * *

Grantline straightened from examining him. 

"Dead. "

Earth-light fell on the horrible face. Puffed flesh, bloated red fromthe blood which had oozed from its pores in the thinning air. I lookedaway. 

We prowled further. Hahn lay dead in the pump-room. 

The body of Coniston should have been near here. We did not see it. 

We climbed up to the slanting littered deck. The dome had not exploded, but the air up here had almost all hissed away. 

Again Grantline touched me. "That the turret?"

"Yes. "

No wonder he asked! The wreckage was all so formless. 

We climbed after Snap into the broken turret room. We passed the body ofthat steward who just at the end had appealed to me and I had leftdying. The legs of the forward look-out still poked grotesquely up fromthe wreckage of the observatory tower where it lay smashed down againstthe roof of the chart-room. 

We shoved ourselves into the turret. What was this? No bodies here! Thegiant Miko was gone! The pool of his blood lay congealed into a frozendark splotch on the metal grid. 

And Moa was gone! They had not been dead. Had dragged themselves out ofhere, fighting desperately for life. We would find them somewhere aroundhere. 

But we did not. Nor Coniston. I recalled what Anita had said: othersuits and helmets had been here in the nearby chart-room. The brigandshad taken them, and food and water doubtless, and escaped from the ship, following us through the lower admission ports only a few minutes afterwe had gone out. 

 * * * * *

We made careful search of the entire ship. Eight of the bodies whichshould have been here were missing: Miko, Moa, Coniston, and five of thesteward-crew. 

We did not find them outside. They were hiding near here, no doubt, morewilling to take their chances than to yield now to us. But how, in allthis Lunar desolation, could we hope to locate them?

"No use, " said Grantline. "Let them go. If they want death--well, theydeserve it. "

But we were saved. Then, as I stood there, realization leaped at me. Saved? Were we not indeed fatuous fools?

In all these emotion-swept moments since we had encountered Grantline, memory of that brigand ship coming from Mars had never once occurred toSnap or me!

I told Grantline now. His eyes through the visor stared at me blankly. 

"What!"

I told him again. It would be here in eight days. Fully manned andarmed. 

"But Haljan, we have almost no weapons! All my _Comet's_ space was takenwith mining equipment and the mechanisms for my camp. I can't signalEarth! I was depending on the _Planetara_!"

It surged upon us. The brigand menace past? We were blindlycongratulating ourselves on our safety! But it would be eight days ormore before in distant Ferrok-Shahn the non-arrival of the _Planetara_would cause any real comment. No one was searching for us--no one wasworried over us. 

No wonder the crafty Miko was willing to take his chances out here inthe Lunar wilds! His ship, his reinforcements, his weapons were comingrapidly!

And we were helpless. Almost unarmed. Marooned here on the Moon with ourtreasure!

(_To be continued. _)

 +-------------------------------------+ | ASTOUNDING STORIES | | _Appears on Newsstands_ | | THE FIRST THURSDAY IN EACH MONTH. | +-------------------------------------+

The Soul-Snatcher

_By Tom Curry_

[Illustration: _He began to twist and turn, as though torn by someinvisible force. _]

 From twenty miles away stabbed the "atom-filtering" rays to Allen Baker in his cell in the death house. 

The shrill voice of a woman stabbed the steady hum of the many machinesin the great, semi-darkened laboratory. It was the onslaught of weakfemininity against the ebony shadow of Jared, the silent negro servantof Professor Ramsey Burr. Not many people were able to get to the famousman against his wishes; Jared obeyed orders implicitly and was generallyan efficient barrier. 

"I will see him, I will, " screamed the middle-aged woman. "I'm Mrs. MaryBaker, and he--he--it's his fault my son is going to die. His fault. _Professor! Professor Burr!_"

Jared was unable to keep her quiet. 

Coming in from the sunlight, her eyes were not yet accustomed to thestrange, subdued haze of the laboratory, an immense chamber crammed fullof equipment, the vista of which seemed like an apartment in hell. Bizarre shapes stood out from the mass of impedimenta, great stillswhich rose full two stories in height, dynamos, immense tubes of coloredliquids, a hundred puzzles to the inexpert eye. 

The small, plump figure of Mrs. Baker was very out of place in thissetting. Her voice was poignant, reedy. A look at her made it evidentthat she was a conventional, good woman. She had soft, cloudy goldeneyes and a pathetic mouth, and she seemed on the point of tears. 

"Madam, madam, de doctor is busy, " whispered Jared, endeavoring to shooher out of the laboratory with his polite hands. He was respectful, butfirm. 

She refused to obey. She stopped when she was within a few feet of theactivity in the laboratory, and stared with fear and horror at thecenter of the room, and at its occupant, Professor Burr, whom she hadaddressed during her flurried entrance. 

The professor's face, as he peered at her, seemed like a disembodiedstare, for she could see only eyes behind a mask of lavender gray glasseyeholes, with its flapping ends of dirty, gray-white cloth. 

She drew in a deep breath--and gasped, for the pungent fumes, acrid andpenetrating, of sulphuric and nitric acids, stabbed her lungs. It waslike the breath of hell, to fit the simile, and aptly Professor Burrseemed the devil himself, manipulating the infernal machines. 

 * * * * *

Acting swiftly, the tall figure stepped over and threw two switches in asingle, sweeping movement. The vermillion light which had lived in along row of tubes on a nearby bench abruptly ceased to writhe like somany tongues of flame, and the embers of hell died out. 

Then the professor flooded the room in harsh gray-green light, andstopped the high-pitched, humming whine of his dynamos. A shadow picturewrithing on the wall, projected from a lead-glass barrel, disappearedsuddenly, the great color filters and other machines lost theirsemblance of horrible life, and a regretful sigh seemed to come from themetal creatures as they gave up the ghost. 

To the woman, it had been entering the abode of fear. She could notrestrain her shudders. But she bravely confronted the tall figure ofProfessor Burr, as he came forth to greet her. 

He was extremely tall and attenuated, with a red, bony mask of a facepointed at the chin by a sharp little goatee. Feathery blond hair, silvered and awry, covered his great head. 

"Madam, " said Burr in a gentle, disarmingly quiet voice, "your manner ofentrance might have cost you your life. Luckily I was able to deflectthe rays from your person, else you might not now be able to voice yourcomplaint--for such seems to be your purpose in coming here. " He turnedto Jared, who was standing close by. "Very well, Jared. You may go. After this, it will be as well to throw the bolts, though in this case Iam quite willing to see the visitor. "

Jared slid away, leaving the plump little woman to confront the famousscientist. 

For a moment, Mrs. Baker stared into the pale gray eyes, the pupils ofwhich seemed black as coal by contrast. Some, his bitter enemies, claimed that Professor Ramsey Burr looked cold and bleak as an iceberg, others that he had a baleful glare. His mouth was grim and determined. 

 * * * * *

Yet, with her woman's eyes, Mrs. Baker, looking at the professor's bonymask of a face, with the high-bridged, intrepid nose, the passionlessgray eyes, thought that Ramsey Burr would be handsome, if a little lesscadaverous and more human. 

"The experiment which you ruined by your untimely entrance, " continuedthe professor, "was not a safe one. "

His long white hand waved toward the bunched apparatus, but to her tothe room seemed all glittering metal coils of snakelike wire, ruddycopper, dull lead, and tubes of all shapes. Hell cauldrons of unknownchemicals seethed and slowly bubbled, beetle-black bakelite fixturesreflected the hideous light. 

"Oh, " she cried, clasping her hands as though she addressed him inprayer, "forget your science, Professor Burr, and be a man. Help me. Three days from now my boy, my son, whom I love above all the world, isto die. "

"Three days is a long time, " said Professor Burr calmly. "Do not losehope: I have no intention of allowing your son, Allen Baker, to pay theprice for a deed of mine. I freely confess it was I who was responsiblefor the death of--what was the person's name?--Smith, I believe. "

"It was you who made Allen get poor Mr. Smith to agree to theexperiments which killed him, and which the world blamed on my son, " shesaid. "They called it the deed of a scientific fiend, Professor Burr, and perhaps they are right. But Allen is innocent. "

"Be quiet, " ordered Burr, raising his hand. "Remember, madam, your sonAllen is only a commonplace medical man, and while I taught him a littlefrom my vast store of knowledge, he was ignorant and of much less valueto science and humanity than myself. Do you not understand, can you notcomprehend, also, that the man Smith was a martyr to science? He was noloss to mankind, and only sentimentalists could have blamed anyone forhis death. I should have succeeded in the interchange of atoms which wewere working on, and Smith would at this moment be hailed as the firstman to travel through space in invisible form, projected on radio waves, had it not been for the fact that the alloy which conducts the threetypes of sinusoidal failed me and burned out. Yes, it was an error incalculation, and Smith would now be called the Lindbergh of the Atom butfor that. Yet Smith has not died in vain, for I have finally correctedthis error--science is but trial and correction of error--and all willbe well. "

"But Allen--Allen must not die at all!" she cried. "For weeks he hasbeen in the death house: it is killing me. The Governor refuses him apardon, nor will he commute my son's sentence. In three days he is todie in the electric chair, for a crime which you admit you alone areresponsible for. Yet you remain in your laboratory, immersed in yourexperiments, and do nothing, nothing!"

 * * * * *

The tears came now, and she sobbed hysterically. It seemed that she wasmaking an appeal to someone in whom she had only a forlorn hope. 

"Nothing?" repeated Burr, pursing his thin lips. "Nothing? Madam, I havedone everything. I have, as I have told you, perfected the experiment. It is successful. Your son has not suffered in vain, and Smith's namewill go down with the rest of science's martyrs as one who died for thesake of humanity. But if you wish to save your son, you must be calm. You must listen to what I have to say, and you must not fail to carryout my instructions to the letter. I am ready now. "

Light, the light of hope, sprang in the mother's eyes. She grasped hisarm and stared at him with shining face, through tear-dipped eyelashes. 

"Do--do you mean it? Can you save him? After the Governor has refusedme? What can you do? No influence will snatch Allen from the jaws of thelaw: the public is greatly excited and very hostile toward him. "

A quiet smile played at the corners of Burr's thin lips. 

"Come, " he said. "Place this cloak about you. Allen wore it when heassisted me. "

The professor replaced his own mask and conducted the woman into theinterior of the laboratory. 

"I will show you, " said Professor Burr. 

She saw before her now, on long metal shelves which appeared to bedelicately poised on fine scales whose balance was registered byhair-line indicators, two small metal cages. 

Professor Burr stepped over to a row of common cages set along the wall. There was a small menagerie there, guinea pigs--the martyrs of theanimal kingdom--rabbits, monkeys, and some cats. 

 * * * * *

The man of science reached in and dragged out a mewing cat, placing itin the right-hand cage on the strange table. He then obtained a smallmonkey and put this animal in the left-hand cage, beside the cat. Thecat, on the right, squatted on its haunches, mewing in pique and lookingup at its tormentor. The monkey, after a quick look around, began toinvestigate the upper reaches of its new cage. 

Over each of the animals was suspended a fine, curious metallicarmament. For several minutes, while the woman, puzzled at how thisdemonstration was to affect the rescue of her condemned son, waitedimpatiently, the professor deftly worked at the apparatus, connectingwires here and there. 

"I am ready now, " said Burr. "Watch the two animals carefully. "

"Yes, yes, " she replied, faintly, for she was half afraid. 

The great scientist was stooping over, looking at the balances of theindicators through microscopes. 

She saw him reach for his switches, and then a brusk order caused her toturn her eyes back to the animals, the cat in the right-hand cage, themonkey at the left. 

Both animals screamed in fear, and a sympathetic chorus sounded from themenagerie, as a long purple spark danced from one gray metal pole to theother, over the cages on the table. 

At first, Mrs. Baker noticed no change. The spark had died, theprofessor's voice, unhurried, grave, broke the silence. 

"The first part of the experiment is over, " he said. "The ego--"

"Oh, heavens!" cried the woman. "You've driven the poor creatures mad!"

 * * * * *

She indicated the cat. That animal was clawing at the top bars of itscage, uttering a bizarre, chattering sound, somewhat like a monkey. Thecat hung from the bars, swinging itself back and forth as on a trapeze, then reached up and hung by its hind claws. 

As for the monkey, it was squatting on the floor of its cage, and itmade a strange sound in its throat, almost a mew, and it hissed severaltimes at the professor. 

"They are not mad, " said Burr. "As I was explaining to you, I havefinished the first portion of the experiment. The ego, or personality ofone animal has been taken out and put into the other. "

She was unable to speak. He had mentioned madness: was he, ProfessorRamsey Burr, crazy? It was likely enough. Yet--yet the whole thing, inthese surroundings, seemed plausible. As she hesitated about speaking, watching with fascinated eyes the out-of-character behavior of the twobeasts, Burr went on. 

"The second part follows at once. Now that the two egos haveinterchanged, I will shift the bodies. When it is completed, the monkeywill have taken the place of the cat, and vice versa. Watch. "

He was busy for some time with his levers, and the smell of ozonereached Mrs. Baker's nostrils as she stared with horrified eyes at theanimals. 

She blinked. The sparks crackled madly, the monkey mewed, the catchattered. 

Were her eyes going back on her? She could see neither animaldistinctly: they seemed to be shaking in some cosmic disturbance, andwere but blurs. This illusion--for to her, it seemed it must beoptical--persisted, grew worse, until the quaking forms of the twounfortunate creatures were like so much ectoplasm in swift motion, ghosts whirling about in a dark room. 

Yet she could see the cages quite distinctly, and the table and even theindicators of the scales. She closed her eyes for a moment. The acridodors penetrated to her lungs, and she coughed, opening her eyes. 

 * * * * *

Now she could see clearly again. Yes, she could see a monkey, and it wasclimbing, quite naturally about its cage; it was excited, but a monkey. And the cat, while protesting mightily, acted like a cat. 

Then she gasped. Had her mind, in the excitement, betrayed her? Shelooked at Professor Burr. On his lean face there was a smile of triumph, and he seemed to be awaiting her applause. 

She looked again at the two cages. Surely, at first the cat had been inthe right-hand cage, and the monkey in the left! And now, the monkey wasin the place where the cat had been and the cat had been shifted to theleft-hand cage. 

"So it was with Smith, when the alloys burned out, " said Burr. "It isimpossible to extract the ego or dissolve the atoms and translate theminto radio waves unless there is a connection with some other ego andbody, for in such a case the translated soul and body would have noplace to go. Luckily, for you, madam, it was the man Smith who waskilled when the alloys failed me. It might have been Allen, for he wasthe second pole of the connection. "

"But, " she began faintly, "how can this mad experiment have anything todo with saving my boy?"

He waved impatiently at her evident denseness. "Do you not understand?It is so I will save Allen, your son. I shall first switch our egos, orsouls, as you say. Then switch the bodies. It must always take thissequence; why, I have not ascertained. But it always works thus. "

Mrs. Baker was terrified. What she had just seen, smacked of theblackest magic--yet a woman in her position must grasp at straws. Theworld blamed her son for the murder of Smith, a man Professor Burr hadmade use of as he might a guinea pig, and Allen must be snatched fromthe death house. 

"Do--do you mean you can bring Allen from the prison here--just bythrowing those switches?" she asked. 

"That is it. But there is more to it than that, for it is not magic, madam; it is science, you understand, and there must be some physicalconnection. But with your help, that can easily be made. "

 * * * * *

Professor Ramsey Burr, she knew, was the greatest electrical engineerthe world had ever known. And he stood high as a physicist. Nothinghindered him in the pursuit of knowledge, they said. He knew no fear, and he lived on an intellectual promontory. He was so great that healmost lost sight of himself. To such a man, nothing was impossible. Hope, wild hope, sprang in Mary Baker's heart, and she grasped the bonyhand of the professor and kissed it. 

"Oh, I believe, I believe, " she cried. "You can do it. You can saveAllen. I will do anything, anything you tell me to. "

"Very well. You visit your son daily at the death house, do you not?"

She nodded; a shiver of remembrance of that dread spot passed throughher. 

"Then you will tell him the plan and let him agree to see me the nightpreceding the electrocution. I will give him final instructions as tothe exchange of bodies. When my life spirit, or ego, is confined in yourson's body in the death house, Allen will be able to perform the feat ofchanging the bodies, and your son's flesh will join his soul, which willhave been temporarily inhabiting my own shell. Do you see? When theyfind me in the cell where they suppose your son to be, they will beunable to explain the phenomenon; they can do nothing but release me. Your son will go here, and can be whisked away to a safe place ofconcealment. "

"Yes, yes. What am I to do besides this?"

Professor Burr pulled out a drawer near at hand, and from it extracted afolded garment of thin, shiny material. 

"This is metal cloth coated with the new alloy, " he said, in a matter offact tone. He rummaged further, saying as he did so, "I expected youwould be here to see me, and I have been getting ready for your visit. All is prepared, save a few odds and ends which I can easily clean up inthe next two days. Here are four cups which Allen must place under eachleg of his bed, and this delicate little director coil you must takeespecial pains with. It is to be slipped under your son's tongue at thetime appointed. "

 * * * * *

She was staring at him still, half in fear, half in wonder, yet shecould not feel any doubt of the man's miraculous powers. Somehow, whilehe talked to her and rested those cold eyes upon her, she was under thespell of the great scientist. Her son, before the trouble into which hehad been dragged by the professor, had often hinted at the abilities ofRamsey Burr, given her the idea that his employer was practically anecromancer, yet a magician whose advanced scientific knowledge wascorrect and explainable in the light of reason. 

Yes, Allen had talked to her often when he was at home, resting from hislabors with Professor Burr. He had spoken of the new electricitydiscovered by the famous man, and also told his mother that Burr hadfound a method of separating atoms and then transforming them into aform of radio-electricity so that they could be sent in radio waves, todesignated points. And she now remembered--the swift trial andconviction of Allen on the charge of murder had occupied her so deeplythat she had forgotten all else for the time being--that her son hadinformed her quite seriously that Professor Ramsey Burr would soon beable to transport human beings by radio. 

"Neither of us will be injured in any way by the change, " said Burrcalmly. "It is possible for me now to break up human flesh, send theatoms by radio-electricity, and reassemble them in their proper form bythese special transformers and atom filters. "

Mrs. Baker took all the apparatus presented her by the professor. Sheventured the thought that it might be better to perform the experimentat once, instead of waiting until the last minute, but this ProfessorBurr waved aside as impossible. He needed the extra time, he said, andthere was no hurry. 

She glanced about the room, and her eye took in the giant switches ofcopper with their black handles; there were others of a gray-green metalshe did not recognize. Many dials and meters, strange to her, confrontedthe little woman. These things, she felt with a rush of gratitude towardthe inanimate objects, would help to save her son, so they interestedher and she began to feel kindly toward the great machines. 

 * * * * *

Would Professor Burr be able to save Allen as he claimed? Yes, shethought, he could. She would make Allen consent to the trial of it, eventhough her son had cursed the scientist and cried he would never speakto Ramsey Burr again. 

She was escorted from the home of the professor by Jared, and going outinto the bright, sunlit street, blinked as her eyes adjusted themselvesto the daylight after the queer light of the laboratory. In a bundle shehad a strange suit and the cups; her purse held the tiny coil, wrappedin cotton. 

How could she get the authorities to consent to her son having the suit?The cups and the coil she might slip to him herself. She decided that amother would be allowed to give her son new underwear. Yes, she wouldsay it was that. 

She started at once for the prison. Professor Burr's laboratory was buttwenty miles from the cell where her son was incarcerated. 

As she rode on the train, seeing people in everyday attire, commonplaceoccurrences going on about her, the spell of Professor Burr faded, andcold reason stared her in the face. Was it nonsense, this idea oftransporting bodies through the air, in invisible waves? Yet, she wasold-fashioned; the age of miracles had not passed for her. Radio, inwhich pictures and voices could be sent on wireless waves, wasunexplainable to her. Perhaps--

She sighed, and shook her head. It was hard to believe. It was also hardto believe that her son was in deadly peril, condemned to death as a"scientific fiend. "

Here was her station. A taxi took her to the prison, and after a talkwith the warden, finally she stood there, before the screen throughwhich she could talk to Allen, her son. 

"Mother!"

Her heart lifted, melted within her. It was always thus when he spoke. "Allen, " she whispered softly. 

They were allowed to talk undisturbed. 

"Professor Burr wishes to help you, " she said, in a low voice. 

 * * * * *

Her son, Allen Baker, M. D. , turned eyes of misery upon her. His ruddyhair was awry. This young man was imaginative and could therefore sufferdeeply. He had the gift of turning platitudes into puzzles, and hishazel eyes were lit with an elfin quality, which, if possible, endearedhim the more to his mother. All his life he had been the greatest thingin the world to this woman. To see him in such straits tore her veryheart. When he had been a little boy, she had been able to make joyappear in those eyes by a word and a pat; now that he was a man, thematter was more difficult, but she had always done her best. 

"I cannot allow Professor Burr to do anything for me, " he said dully. "It is his fault that I am here. "

"But Allen, you must listen, listen carefully. Professor Burr can saveyou. He says it was all a mistake, the alloy was wrong. He has not comeforward before, because he knew he would be able to iron out the troubleif he had time, and thus snatch you from this terrible place. "

She put as much confidence into her voice as she could. She must, toenhearten her son. Anything to replace that look of suffering with oneof hope. She would believe, she did believe. The bars, the great massesof stone which enclosed her son would be as nothing. He would passthrough them, unseen, unheard. 

For a time, Allen spoke bitterly of Ramsey Burr, but his mother pleadedwith him, telling him it was his only chance, and that the deviltryAllen suspected was imaginary. 

"He--he killed Smith in such an experiment, " said Allen. "I took theblame, as you know, though I only followed his instructions. But you sayhe claims to have found the correct alloys?"

"Yes. And this suit, you must put it on. But Professor Burr himself willbe here to see you day after to-morrow, the day preceding the--the--"She bit her lip, and got out the dreaded word, "the electrocution. Butthere won't be any electrocution, Allen; no, there cannot be. You willbe safe, safe in my arms. " She had to fight now to hold her belief inthe miracle which Burr had promised. The solid steel and stone dismayedher brain. 

 * * * * *

The new alloy seemed to interest Allen Baker. His mother told him of theexchange of the monkey and the cat, and he nodded excitedly, growingmore and more restive, and his eyes began to shine with hope andcuriosity. 

"I have told the warden about the suit, saying it was something I madefor you myself, " she said, in a low voice. "You must pretend the coiland the cups are things you desire for your own amusement. You know, they have allowed you a great deal of latitude, since you are educatedand need diversion. "

"Yes, yes. There may be some difficulty, but I will overcome that. TellBurr to come. I'll talk with him and he can instruct me in the finaldetails. It is better than waiting here like a rat in a trap. I havebeen afraid of going mad, mother, but this buoys me up. "

He smiled at her, and her heart sang in the joy of relief. 

How did the intervening days pass? Mrs. Baker could not sleep, couldscarcely eat, she could do nothing but wait, wait, wait. She watched themeeting of her son and Ramsey Burr, on the day preceding the date setfor the execution. 

"Well, Baker, " said Burr nonchalantly, nodding to his former assistant. "How are you?"

"You see how I am, " said Allen, coldly. 

"Yes, yes. Well, listen to what I have to say and note it carefully. There must be no slip. You have the suit, the cups and the directorcoil? You must keep the suit on, the cups go under the legs of the cotyou lie on. The director under your tongue. "

The professor spoke further with Allen, instructing him in scientificterms which the woman scarcely comprehended. 

"To-night, then at eleven-thirty, " said Burr, finally. "Be ready. "

 * * * * *

Allen nodded. Mrs. Baker accompanied Burr from the prison. 

"You--you will let me be with you?" she begged. 

"It is hardly necessary, " said the professor. 

"But I must. I must see Allen the moment he is free, to make sure he isall right. Then, I want to be able to take him away. I have a place inwhich we can hide, and as soon as he is rescued he must be taken out ofsight. "

"Very well, " said Burr, shrugging. "It is immaterial to me, so long asyou do not interfere with the course of the experiment. You must sitperfectly still, you must not speak until Allen stands before you andaddresses you. "

"Yes, I will obey you, " she promised. 

Mrs. Baker watched Professor Ramsey Burr eat his supper. Burr himselfwas not in the least perturbed; it was wonderful, she thought, that hecould be so calm. To her, it was the great moment, the moment when herson would be saved from the jaws of death. 

Jared carried a comfortable chair into the laboratory and she sat in it, quiet as a mouse, in one corner of the room. 

It was nine o'clock, and Professor Burr was busy with his preparations. She knew he had been working steadily for the past few days. She grippedthe arms of her chair, and her heart burned within her. 

The professor was making sure of his apparatus. He tested this bulb andthat, and carefully inspected the curious oscillating platform, overwhich was suspended a thickly bunched group of gray-green wire, whichwas seemingly an antenna. The numerous indicators and implements seemedto be satisfactory, for at quarter after eleven Burr gave an exclamationof pleasure and nodded to himself. 

Burr seemed to have forgotten the woman. He spoke aloud occasionally, but not to her, as he drew forth a suit made of the same metal cloth asAllen must have on at this moment. 

 * * * * *

The tension was terrific, terrific for the mother, who was awaiting theculmination of the experiment which would rescue her son from theelectric chair--or would it fail? She shuddered. What if Burr were mad?

But look at him, she was sure he was sane, as sane as she was. 

"He will succeed, " she murmured, digging her nails into the palms of herhands. "I _know_ he will. "

She pushed aside the picture of what would happen on the morrow, but afew hours distant, when Allen, her son, was due to be led to a legaldeath in the electric chair. 

Professor Burr placed the shiny suit upon his lank form, and she saw himput a duplicate coil, the same sort of small machine which Allenpossessed, under his tongue. 

The Mephistophelian figure consulted a matter-of-fact watch; at thatmoment, Mrs. Baker heard, above the hum of the myriad machines in thelaboratory, the slow chiming of a clock. It was the moment set for thedeed. 

Then, she feared the professor was insane, for he suddenly leaped to thehigh bench of the table on which stood one of the oscillating platforms. 

Wires led out from this, and Burr sat gently upon it, a strange figurein the subdued light. 

Professor Burr, however, she soon saw, was not insane. No, this was partof it. He was reaching for switches near at hand, and bulbs began toglow with unpleasant light, needles on indicators swung madly, and atlast, Professor Burr kicked over a giant switch, which seemed to be thefinal movement. 

For several seconds the professor did not move. Then his body grewrigid, and he twisted a few times. His face, though not drawn in pain, yet twitched galvanically, as though actuated by slight jabs ofelectricity. 

 * * * * *

The many tubes fluoresced, flared up in pulsing waves of violet andpink: there were gray bars of invisibility or areas of air in whichnothing visible showed. There came the faint, crackling hum of machineryrather like a swarm of wasps in anger. Blue and gray thread of fire spatacross the antenna. The odor of ozone came to Mrs. Baker's nostrils, and the acid odors burned her lungs. 

She was staring at him, staring at the professor's face. She half rosefrom her chair, and uttered a little cry. 

The eyes had changed, no longer were they cold, impersonal, the eyes ofa man who prided himself on the fact that he kept his arteries soft andhis heart hard; they were loving, soft eyes. 

"Allen, " she cried. 

Yes, without doubt, the eyes of her son were looking at her out of thebody of Professor Ramsey Burr. 

"Mother, " he said gently. "Don't be alarmed. It is successful. I amhere, in Professor Burr's body. "

"Yes, " she cried, hysterically. It was too weird to believe. It seemeddim to her, unearthly. 

"Are you all right, darling?" she asked timidly. 

"Yes. I felt nothing beyond a momentary giddy spell, a bit of nausea andmental stiffness. It was strange, and I have a slight headache. However, all is well. "

He grinned at her, laughed with the voice which was not his, yet whichshe recognized as directed by her son's spirit. The laugh was crackedand unlike Allen's whole-hearted mirth, yet she smiled in sympathy. 

"Yes, the first part is a success, " said the man. "Our egos haveinterchanged. Soon, our bodies will undergo the transformation, and thenI must keep under cover. I dislike Burr--yet he is a great man. He hassaved me. I suppose the slight headache which I feel is one bequeathedme by Burr. I hope he inherits my shivers and terrors and the neuralgiafor the time being, so he will get some idea of what I have undergone. "

He had got down from the oscillating platform, the spirit of her son inRamsey's body. 

"What--what are you doing now?" she asked. 

"I must carry out the rest of it myself, " he said. "Burr directed mewhen we talked yesterday. It is more difficult when one subject is outof the laboratory, and the tubes must be checked. "

 * * * * *

He went carefully about his work, and she saw him replacing four of thetubes with others, new ones, which were ready at hand. Though it was thebody of Ramsey Burr, the movements were different from the slow, precisework of the professor, and more and more, she realized that her soninhabited the shell before her. 

For a moment, the mother thought of attempting to dissuade her son frommaking the final change; was it not better thus, than to chance thedisintegration of the bodies? Suppose something went wrong, and theexchange did not take place, and her son, that is, his spirit, went backto the death house?

Midnight struck as he worked feverishly at the apparatus, the long facecorrugated as he checked the dials and tubes. He worked swiftly, butevidently was following a procedure which he had committed to memory, for he was forced to pause often to make sure of himself. 

"Everything is O. K. , " said the strange voice at last. He consulted hiswatch. "Twelve-thirty, " he said. 

She bit her lip in terror, as he cried, "Now!" and sprang to the tableto take his place on the metallic platform, which oscillated to and frounder his weight. The delicate grayish metal antenna, which, she knew, would form a glittering halo of blue and gray threads of fire, restedquiescent above his head. 

"This is the last thing, " he said calmly, as he reached for the bigebony handled switch. "I'll be myself in a few minutes, mother. "

"Yes, son, yes. "

The switch connected, and Allen Baker, in the form of Ramsey Burr, suddenly cried out in pain. His mother leaped up to run to his side, buthe waved her away. She stood, wringing her hands, as he began to twistand turn, as though torn by some invisible force. Eery screams camefrom the throat of the man on the platform, and Mrs. Baker's cries ofsympathy mingled with them. 

 * * * * *

The mighty motors hummed in a high-pitched, unnatural whine, andsuddenly Mrs. Baker saw the tortured face before her grow dim. Thecountenance of the professor seemed to melt, and then there came a dull, muffled thud, a burst of white-blue flame, the odor of burning rubberand the tinkle of broken glass. 

Back to the face came the clarity of outline, and still it was ProfessorRamsey Burr's body she stared at. 

Her son, in the professor's shape, climbed from the platform, and lookedabout him as though dazed. An acrid smoke filled the room, and burninginsulation assailed the nostrils. 

Desperately, without looking at her, his lips set in a determined line, the man went hurriedly over the apparatus again. 

"Have I forgotten, did I do anything wrong?" she heard his anguishedcry. 

Two tubes were burned out, and these he replaced as swiftly as possible. But he was forced to go all over the wiring, and cut out whatever hadbeen short-circuited so that it could be hooked up anew with uninjuredwire. 

Before he was ready to resume his seat on the platform, after half anhour of feverish haste, a knock came on the door. 

The person outside was imperative, and Mrs. Baker ran over and openedthe portal. Jared, the whites of his eyes shining in the dim light, stood there. "De professah--tell him dat de wahden wishes to talk withhim. It is very important, ma'am. "

The body of Burr, inhabited by Allen's soul, pushed by her, and shefollowed falteringly, wringing her hands. She saw the tall figure snatchat the receiver and listen. 

"Oh, God, " he cried. 

At last, he put the receiver back on the hook, automatically, and sankdown in a chair, his face in his hands. 

 * * * * *

Mrs. Baker went to him quickly. "What is it, Allen?" she cried. 

"Mother, " he said hoarsely, "it was the warden of the prison. He told methat Allen Baker had gone temporarily insane, and claimed to beProfessor Ramsey Burr in my body. "

"But--but what is the matter?" she asked. "Cannot you finish theexperiment, Allen? Can't you change the two bodies now?"

He shook his head. "Mother--they electrocuted Ramsey Burr in my body attwelve forty-five to-night!"

She screamed. She was faint, but she controlled herself with a greateffort. 

"But the electrocution was not to be until morning, " she said. 

Allen shook his head. "They are allowed a certain latitude, about twelvehours, " he said. "Burr protested up to the last moment, and begged fortime. "

"Then--then they must have come for him and dragged him forth to die inthe electric chair while you were attempting the second part of thechange, " she said. 

"Yes. That was why it failed. That's why the tubes and wires burned outand why we couldn't exchange bodies. It began to succeed, then I couldfeel something terrible had happened. It was impossible to complete theBeta circuit, which short-circuited. They took him from the cell, do yousee, while I was starting the exchange of the atoms. "

 * * * * *

For a time, the mother and her boy sat staring at one another. She sawthe tall, eccentric figure of Ramsey Burr before her, yet she saw alsothe soul of her son within that form. The eyes were Allen's, the voicewas soft and loving, and his spirit was with her. 

"Come, Allen, my son, " she said softly. 

"Burr paid the price, " said Allen, shaking his head. "He became a martyrto science. "

The world has wondered why Professor Ramsey Burr, so much in theheadlines as a great scientist, suddenly gave up all his experiments andtook up the practice of medicine. 

Now that the public furor and indignation over the death of the manSmith has died down, sentimentalists believe that Ramsey Burr hasreformed and changed his icy nature, for he manifests great affectionand care for Mrs. Mary Baker, the mother of the electrocuted man who hadbeen his assistant. 

 +--------------------------------------+ | BY NO MEANS | | _Miss the Opening Installment of | | the Extraordinary Four-Part Novel_ | | MURDER MADNESS | | _By Murray Leinster_ | | | | _Starting In Our Next Issue_ | +--------------------------------------+

The Ray of Madness

_By Captain S. P. Meek_

[Illustration: "_That's the one, " he exclaimed. "Hold the glass therefor a moment. _"]

 Dr. Bird discovers a dastardly plot, amazing in its mechanical ingenuity, behind the apparently trivial eye trouble of the President. 

A knock sounded at the door of Dr. Bird's private laboratory in theBureau of Standards. The famous scientist paid no attention to theinterruption but bent his head lower over the spectroscope with which hewas working. The knock was repeated with a quality of quiet insistenceupon recognition. The Doctor smothered an exclamation of impatience andstrode over to the door and threw it open to the knocker. 

"Oh, hello, Carnes, " he exclaimed as he recognized his visitor. "Come inand sit down and keep your mouth shut for a few minutes. I am busy justnow but I'll be at liberty in a little while. "

[Illustration]

"There's no hurry, Doctor, " replied Operative Carnes of the UnitedStates Secret Service as he entered the room and sat on the edge of theDoctor's desk. "I haven't got a case up my sleeve this time; I just camein for a little chat. "

"All right, glad to see you. Read that latest volume of the_Zeitschrift_ for a while. That article of Von Beyer's has got meguessing, all right. "

Carnes picked up the indicated volume and settled himself to read. TheDoctor bent over his apparatus. Time and again he made minuteadjustments and gave vent to muttered exclamations of annoyance at theresults he obtained. Half an hour later he rose from his chair with asigh and turned to his visitor. 

"What do you think of Von Beyer's alleged discovery?" he asked theoperative. 

 * * * * *

"It's too deep for me, Doctor, " replied the operative. "All that I canmake out of it is that he claims to have discovered a new element named'lunium, ' but hasn't been able to isolate it yet. Is there anythingremarkable about that? It seems to me that I have read of other newelements being discovered from time to time. "

"There is nothing remarkable about the discovery of a new element by thespectroscopic method, " replied Dr. Bird. "We know from Mendeleff'stable that there are a number of elements which we have not discoveredas yet, and several of the ones we know were first detected by thespectroscope. The thing which puzzles me is that so brilliant a man asVon Beyer claims to have discovered it in the spectra of the moon. Hisname, lunium, is taken from Luna, the moon. "

"Why not the moon? Haven't several elements been first discovered in thespectra of stars?"

"Certainly. The classic example is Lockyer's discovery of an orange linein the spectra of the sun in 1868. No known terrestrial element gavesuch a line and he named the new element which he deduced helium, fromHelos, the sun. The element helium was first isolated by Ramsey sometwenty-seven years later. Other elements have been found in the spectraof stars, but the point I am making is that the sun and the stars areincandescent bodies and could be logically expected to show thecharacteristic lines of their constituent elements in their spectra. Butthe moon is a cold body without an atmosphere and is visible only byreflected light. The element, lunium, may exist in the moon, but themanifestations which Von Beyer has observed must be, not from the moon, but from the source of the reflected light which he spectro-analyzed. "

 * * * * *

"You are over my depth, Doctor. "

"I'm over my own. I have tried to follow Von Beyer's reasoning and Ihave tried to check his findings. Twice this evening I thought that Icaught a momentary glimpse on the screen of my fluoroscope of theultra-violet line which he reports as characteristic of lunium, but I amnot certain. I haven't been able to photograph it yet. He notes in hisarticle that the line seems to be quite impermanent and fades so rapidlythat an accurate measurement of its wave-length is almost impossible. However, let's drop the subject. How do you like your new assignment?"

"Oh, it's all right. I would rather be back on my old work. "

"I haven't seen you since you were assigned to the Presidential detail. I suppose that you fellows are pretty busy getting ready for PremierMcDougal's visit?"

"I doubt if he will come, " replied Carnes soberly. "Things are notexactly propitious for a visit of that sort just now. "

 * * * * *

Dr. Bird sat back in his chair in surprise. 

"I thought that the whole thing is arranged. The press seems to thinkso, at any rate. "

"Everything is arranged, but arrangements may be cancelled. I wouldn'tbe surprised to hear that they were. "

"Carnes, " replied Dr. Bird gravely, "you have either said too much ortoo little. There is something more to this than appears on the surface. If it is none of my business, don't hesitate to tell me so and I'llforget what you have said, but if I can help you any, speak up. "

Carnes puffed meditatively at his pipe for a few minutes beforereplying. 

"It's really none of your business. Doctor, " he said at length, "and yetI know that a corpse is a chatterbox compared to you when you are toldanything in confidence, and I really need to unload my mind. It has beenkept from the press so far; but I don't know how long it can be keptmuzzled. In strict confidence, the President of the United State actsas though he were crazy. "

"Quite a section of the press has claimed that for a long time, " repliedDr. Bird, with a twinkle in his eye. 

"I don't mean crazy in that way, Doctor, I mean _really_ crazy. Bugs!Nuts! Bats in his belfry!"

 * * * * *

Dr. Bird whistled softly. 

"Are you sure, Carnes?" he asked. 

"As sure as may be. Both of his physicians think so. They werenon-committal for a while, especially as the first attack waned and heseemed to recover, but when his second attack came on more violentlythan the first and the President began to act queerly, they had to takethe Presidential detail into their confidence. He has been quietlyexamined by some of the greatest psychiatrists in the country, but noneof them have ventured on a positive verdict as to the nature of themalady. They admit, of course, that it exists, but they won't classifyit. The fact that it is intermittent seems to have them stopped. He wasbad a month ago but he recovered and became, to all appearances, normalfor a time. About a week ago he began to show queer symptoms again andnow he is getting worse daily. If he goes on getting worse for anotherweek, it will have to be announced so that the Vice-President can takeover the duties of the head of the government. "

 * * * * *

"What are the symptoms?"

"The first we noticed was a failing of his memory. Coupled with this wasa restlessness and a habit of nocturnal prowling. He tosses continuallyon his bed and mutters and at times leaps up and rages back and forth inhis bedchamber, howling and raging. Then he will calm down and composehimself and go to sleep, only to wake in half an hour and go through thesame performance. It is pretty ghastly for the men on night guard. "

"How does he act in the daytime?"

"Heavy and lethargic. His memory becomes a complete blank at times andhe talks wildly. Those are the times we must guard against. "

"Overwork?" queried the Doctor. 

"Not according to his physicians. His physical health is splendid andhis appetite unusually keen. He takes his exercise regularly and suffersno ill health except for a little eye trouble. "

Dr. Bird leaped to his feet. 

"Tell me more about this eye trouble, Carnes, " he demanded. 

"Why, I don't know much about it, Doctor. Admiral Clay told me that itwas nothing but a mild opthalmia which should yield readily totreatment. That was when he told me to see that the shades of thePresident's study were partially drawn to keep the direct sunlight out. "

 * * * * *

"Opthalmia be sugared! What do his eyes look like?"

"They are rather red and swollen and a little bloodshot. He has atendency to shut them while he is talking and he avoids light as much aspossible. I hadn't noticed anything peculiar about it. "

"Carnes, did you ever see a case of snow blindness?"

The operative looked up in surprise. 

"Yes, I have. I had it myself once in Maine. Now that you mention it, his case does look like snow blindness, but such a thing is absurd inWashington in August. "

Dr. Bird rummaged in his desk and drew out a book, which he consultedfor a moment. 

"Now, Carnes, " he said, "I want some dates from you and I want themaccurately. Don't guess, for a great deal may depend on the accuracy ofyour answers. When was this mental disability on the part of thePresident first noticed?"

Carnes drew a pocket diary from his coat and consulted it. 

"The seventeenth of July, " he replied. "That is, we are sure, in viewof later developments, that that was the date it first came on. Wedidn't realize that anything was wrong until the twentieth. On the nightof the nineteenth the President slept very poorly, getting up andcreating a disturbance twice, and on the twentieth he acted so queerlythat it was necessary to cancel three conferences. "

 * * * * *

Dr. Bird checked off the dates on the book before him and nodded. 

"Go on, " he said, "and describe the progress of the malady by days. "

"It got progressively worse until the night of the twenty-third. Thetwenty-fourth he was no worse, and on the twenty-fifth a slightimprovement was noticed. He got steadily better until, by the third orfourth of August, he was apparently normal. About the twelfth he beganto show signs of restlessness which have increased daily during the pastweek. Last night, the nineteenth, he slept only a few minutes and Brady, who was on guard, says that his howls were terrible. His memory has beenalmost a total blank today and all of his appointments were cancelled, ostensibly because of his eye trouble. If he gets any worse, it probablywill be necessary to inform the country as to his true condition. "

When Carnes had finished, Dr. Bird sat for a time in concentratedthought. 

"You did exactly right in coming to me, Carnes, " he said presently. "Idon't think that this is a job for a doctor at all--I believe that itneeds a physicist and a chemist and possibly a detective to cure him. We'll get busy. "

"What do you mean, Doctor?" demanded Carnes. "Do you think that someexterior force is causing the President's disability?"

 * * * * *

"I think nothing, Carnes, " replied the Doctor grimly, "but I intend toknow something before I am through. Don't ask for explanations: this isnot the time for talk, it is the time for action. Can you get me intothe White House to-night?"

"I doubt it, Doctor, but I'll try. What excuse shall I give? I am notsupposed to have told you anything about the President's illness. "

"Get Bolton, your chief, on the phone and tell him that you have talkedto me when you shouldn't have. He'll blow up, but after he is throughexploding, tell him that I smell a rat and that I want him down here atonce with _carte blanche_ authority to do as I see fit in the WhiteHouse. If he makes any fuss about it, remind him of the fact that he hasconsidered me crazy several times in the past when events showed that Iwas right. If he won't play after that, let me talk to him. "

"All right, Doctor, " replied Carnes as he picked up the scientist'stelephone and gave the number of the home of the Chief of the SecretService. "I'll try to bully him out of it. He has a good deal ofconfidence in your ability. "

 * * * * *

Half an hour later the door of Dr. Bird's laboratory opened suddenly toadmit Bolton. 

"Hello, Doctor, " exclaimed the Chief, "what the dickens have you got onyour mind now? I ought to skin Carnes alive for talking out of turn, butif you really have an idea, I'll forgive him. What do you suspect?"

"I suspect several things, Bolton, but I haven't time to tell you whatthey are. I want to get quietly into the White House as promptly aspossible. "

"That's easy, " replied Bolton, "but first I want to know what the objectof the visit is. "

"The object is to see what I can find out. My ideas are entirely toonebulous to attempt to lay them out before you just now. You've neverworked directly with me on a case before, but Carnes can tell you that Ihave my own methods of working and that I won't spill my ideas until Ihave something more definite to go on than I have at present. "

"The Doctor is right, Chief, " said Carnes. "He has an idea all right, but wild horses won't drag it out of him until he's ready to talk. You'll have to take him on faith, as I always do. "

Bolton hesitated a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. 

"Have it your own way, Doctor, " he said. "Your reputation, both as ascientist and as an unraveller of tangled skeins, is too good for me toboggle about your methods. Tell me what you want and I'll try to getit. "

 * * * * *

"I want to get into the White House without undue prominence being givento my movements, and listen outside the President's door for a shorttime. Later I will want to examine his sleeping quarters carefully andto make a few tests. I may be entirely wrong in my assumptions, but Ibelieve that there is something there that requires my attention. "

"Come along, " said Bolton. "I'll get you in and let you listen, but therest we'll have to trust to luck on. You may have to wait untilmorning. "

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, " replied the Doctor. "I'llget a little stuff together that we may need. "

In a few moments he had packed some apparatus in a bag and, taking up itand an instrument case, he followed Bolton and Carnes down the stairsand out onto the grounds of the Bureau of Standards. 

"It's a beautiful moon, isn't it?" he observed. 

Carnes assented absently to the Doctor's remark, but Bolton paid noattention to the luminous disc overhead, which was flooding thelandscape with its mellow light. 

"My car is waiting, " he announced. 

"All right, old man, but stop for a moment and admire this moon, "protested the Doctor. "Have you ever seen a finer one?"

"Come on and let the moon alone, " snorted Bolton. 

"My dear man, I absolutely refuse to move a step until you pause in yourheadlong devotion to duty and pay the homage due to Lady Luna. Don'tyou realize, you benighted Christian, that you are gazing upon what hasbeen held to be a deity, or at least the visible manifestation of deity, for ages immemorial? Haven't you ever had time to study the history ofthe moon-worshipping cults? They are as old as mankind, you know. Theworship of Isis was really only an exalted type of moon worship. Thecrescent moon, you may remember, was one of her most sacred emblems. "

 * * * * *

Bolton paused and looked at the Doctor suspiciously. 

"What are you doing--pulling my leg?" he demanded. 

"Not at all, my dear fellow. Carnes, doesn't the sight of the glowingorb of night influence you to pious meditation upon the frailty of humanlife and the insignificance of human ambition?"

"Not to any very great degree, " replied Carnes dryly. 

"Carnesy, old dear, I fear that you are a crass materialist. I ambeginning to despair of ever inculcating in you any respect for thefiner and subtler things of life. I must try Bolton. Bolton, have youever seen a finer moon? Remember that I won't move a step until you havecarefully considered the matter and fully answered my question. "

Bolton looked first at the Doctor, then at Carnes, and finally he lookedreluctantly at the moon. 

"It's a fine one, " he admitted, "but all full moons look large on clearnights at this time of the year. "

"Then you _have_ studied the moon?" cried Dr. Bird with delight. "I wassure--"

 * * * * *

He broke off his speech suddenly and listened. From a distance came themournful howl of a dog. It was answered in a moment by another howl froma different direction. Dog after dog took up the chorus until the airwas filled with the melancholy wailing of the animals. 

"See, Bolton, " remarked the Doctor, "even the dogs feel the chasteninginfluence of the Lady of Night and repent of the sins of their youth andthe follies of their manhood, or should one say doghood? Come along. Ifeel that the call of duty must tear us away from the contemplation ofthe beauties of nature. "

He led the way to Bolton's car and got in without further words. Ahalf-hour later, Bolton led the way into the White House. A word to thesecret service operative on guard at the door admitted him and hisparty, and he led the way to the newly constructed solarium where thePresident slept. An operative stood outside the door. 

"What word, Brady?" asked Bolton in a whisper. 

"He seems worse, sir. I doubt if he has slept at all. Admiral Clay hasbeen in several times, but he didn't do much good. There, listen! ThePresident is getting up again. "

 * * * * *

From behind the closed door which confronted them came sounds of aperson rising from a bed and pacing the floor, slowly at first, and thenmore and more rapidly, until it was almost a run. A series of groanscame to the watchers and then a long drawn out howl. Bolton shuddered. 

"Poor devil!" he muttered. 

Dr. Bird shot a quick glance around. 

"Where is Admiral Clay?" he asked. 

"He is sleeping upstairs. Shall I call him?"

"No. Take me to his room. "

The President's naval physician opened the door in response to Bolton'sknock. 

"Is he worse?" he demanded anxiously. 

"I don't think so, Admiral, " replied Bolton. "I want to introduce you toDr. Bird of the Bureau of Standards. He wants to talk with you about thecase. "

"I am honored, Doctor, " said the physician as he grasped the scientist'soutstretched hand. "Come in. Pardon my appearance, but I was startledout of a doze when you knocked. Have a chair and tell me how I can serveyou. "

Dr. Bird drew a notebook from his pocket. 

"I have received certain dates in connection with the President's maladyfrom Operative Carnes, " he said, "and I wish you to verify them. "

"Pardon me a moment, Doctor, " interrupted the Admiral, "but may I askwhat is your connection with the matter? I was not aware that you were aphysician or surgeon. "

 * * * * *

"Dr. Bird is here by the authority of the secret service, " repliedBolton. "He has no connection with the medical treatment of thePresident, but permit me to remind you that the secret service isresponsible for the safety of the President and so have a right todemand such details about him as are necessary for his properprotection. "

"I have no intention in obstructing you in the proper performance ofyour duties, Mr. Bolton, " began the Admiral stiffly. 

"Pardon me, Admiral, " broke in Dr. Bird, "it seems to me that we aregetting started wrong. I suspect that certain exterior forces are moreor less concerned in this case and I have communicated my suspicions toMr. Bolton. He in turn brought me here in order to request from you yourcooperation in the matter. We have no idea of demanding anything and arereally seeking help which we believe that you can give us. "

"Pardon me, Admiral, " said Bolton. "I had no intention of angering you. "

"I am at your service, gentlemen, " replied Admiral Clay. "Whatinformation did you wish, Doctor?"

"At first merely a verification of the history of the case as I haveit. "

 * * * * *

Dr. Bird read the notes he had taken down from Carnes and the Admiralnodded agreement. 

"Those dates are correct, " he said. 

"Now, Admiral, there are two further points on which I wishenlightenment. The first is the opthalmia which is troubling thepatient. "

"It is nothing to be alarmed about as far as symptoms go, Doctor, "replied the Admiral. "It is a rather mild case of irritation, somewhatanalogous to granuloma, but rather stubborn. He had an attack severalweeks ago and while it did not yield to treatment as readily as I couldhave wished, it did clear up nicely in a couple of weeks and I was quitesurprised at this recurrent attack. His sight is in no danger. "

"Have you tried to connect this opthalmia with his mental aberrations?"

"Why no, Doctor, there is no connection. "

"Are you sure?"

"I am certain. The slight pain which his eyes give him could never havesuch an effect upon the mind of so able and energetic a man as he is. "

"Well, we'll let that pass for the moment. The other question is this:has he any form of skin trouble?"

 * * * * *

The Admiral looked up in surprise. 

"Yes, he has, " he admitted. "I had mentioned it to no one, for it reallyamounts to nothing, but he has a slight attack of some obscure form ofdermatitis which I am treating. It is affecting only his face andhands. "

"Please describe it. "

"It has taken the form of a brown pigmentation on the hands. On the faceit causes a slight itching and subsequent peeling of the affectedareas. "

"In other words, it is acting like sunburn?"

"Why, yes, somewhat. It is not that, however, for he has been exposed tothe sun very little lately, on account of his eyes. "

"I notice that he is sleeping in the new solarium which was added lastwinter to the executive mansion. Can you tell me with what type of glassit is equipped?"

"Yes. It is not equipped with glass at all, but with fused quartz. "

"When did he start to sleep there?"

"As soon as it was completed. "

"And all the time the windows have been of fused quartz?"

"No. They were glazed at first, but the glass was removed and the fusedquartz substituted at my suggestion about two months ago, just beforethis trouble started. "

"Thank you, Admiral. You have given me several things to think about. Myideas are a little too nebulous to share as yet but I think that I cangive you one piece of very sound advice. The President is spending avery restless night. If you would remove him from the solarium and gethim to lie down in a room which is glazed with ordinary glass, and pulldown the shades so that he will be in the dark, I think that he willpass a better night. "

 * * * * *

Admiral Clay looked keenly into the piercing black eyes of the Doctor. 

"I know something of you by reputation, Bird, " he said slowly, "and Iwill follow your advice. Will you tell me why you make this particularsuggestion?"

"So that I can work in that solarium to-night without interruption, "replied Dr. Bird. "I have some tests which I wish to carry out while itis still dark. If my results are negative, forget what I have told you. If they yield any information, I will be glad to share it with you atthe proper time. Now get the President out of that solarium and tell mewhen the coast is clear. "

The Admiral donned a dressing gown and stepped out of the room. Hereturned in fifteen minutes. 

"The solarium is at your disposal, Doctor, " he announced. "Shall Iaccompany you?"

"If you wish, " assented Dr. Bird as he picked up his apparatus andstrode out of the room. 

In the solarium he glanced quickly around, noting the position of eachof the articles of furniture. 

"I presume that the President always sleeps with his head in thisdirection?" he remarked, pointing to the pillow on the disturbed bed. 

The Admiral nodded assent. Dr. Bird opened the bag which he had packedin his laboratory, took out a sheet of cardboard covered with a metalliclooking substance, and placed it on the pillow. He stepped back anddonned a pair of smoked glasses, watching it intently. Without a word hetook off the glasses and handed them to the Admiral. The Admiral donnedthem and looked at the pillow. As he did so an exclamation broke fromhis lips. 

"That plate seems to glow, " he said in an astonished voice. 

 * * * * *

Dr. Bird stepped forward and laid his hand on the pillow. He was wearinga wrist watch with a radiolite dial. The substance suddenly increasedits luminescence and began to glow fiercely, long luminous streamersseeming to come from the dial. The Doctor took away his hand andsubstituted a bottle of liquid for the plate on the pillow. Immediatelythe bottle began to glow with a phosphorescent light. 

"What on earth is it?" gasped Carnes. 

"Excitation of a radioactive fluid, " replied the Doctor. "The questionis, what is exciting it. Somebody get a stepladder. "

While Bolton was gone after the ladder, the Doctor took from his bagwhat looked like an ordinary pane of glass. 

"Take this, Carnes, " he directed, "and start holding it over each ofthose panes of quartz which you can reach. Stop when I tell you to. "

 * * * * *

The operative held the glass over each of the panes in succession, butthe Doctor, who kept his eyes covered with the smoked glasses andfastened on the plate which he had replaced on the pillow, said nothing. When Bolton arrived with the ladder, the process went on. One end andmost of the front of the solarium had been covered before an exclamationfrom the Doctor halted the work. 

"That's the one, " he exclaimed. "Hold the glass there for a moment. "

Hurriedly he removed the plate from the pillow and replaced the phial ofliquid. There was only a very feeble glow. 

"Good enough, " he cried. "Take away the glass, but mark that pane, andbe ready to replace it when I give the word. "

From the instrument case he had brought he took out a spectroscope. Heturned back the mattress and mounted it on the bedstead. 

"Cover that pane, " he directed. 

Carnes did so, and the Doctor swung the receiving tube of the instrumentuntil it pointed at the covered pane. He glanced into the eyepiece, andthen held a tiny flashlight for an instant opposite the third tube. 

"Uncover that pane, " he said. 

Carnes took down the glass plate and the Doctor gazed into theinstrument. He made some adjustments. 

"Are you familiar with spectroscopy, Admiral?" he asked. 

"Somewhat. "

"Take a squint in here and tell me what you see. "

 * * * * *

The Admiral applied his eye to the instrument and looked long andearnestly. 

"There are some lines there, Doctor, " he said, "but your instrument isbadly out of adjustment. They are in what should be the ultra-violetsector, according to your scale. "

"I forgot to tell you that this is a fluoroscopic spectroscope designedfor the detection of ultra-violet lines, " replied Dr. Bird. "Those linesyou see are ultra-violet, made visible to the eye by activation of aradioactive compound whose rays in turn impinge on a zinc blende sheet. Do you recognize the lines?"

"No, I don't. "

"Small wonder; I doubt whether there are a dozen people who would. Ihave never seen them before, although I recognize them from descriptionsI have read. Bolton, come here. Sight along this instrument and throughthat plate of glass which Carnes is holding and tell me what office thatwindow belongs to. "

Bolton sighted as directed up at the side of the State, War and NavyBuilding. 

"I can't tell exactly at this time of night, Doctor, " he said, "but I'llgo into the building and find out. "

"Do so. Have you a flashlight?"

"Yes. "

"Flash it momentarily out of each of the suspected windows in turn untilyou get an answering flash from here. When you do, flash it out of eachpane of glass in the window until you get another flash from here. Thencome back and tell me what office it is. Mark the pane so that we canlocate it again in the morning. "

 * * * * *

"It is the office of the Assistant to the Adjutant General of the Army, "reported Bolton ten minutes later. 

"What is there in the room?"

"Nothing but the usual desks and chairs. "

"I suspected as much. The window is merely a reflector. That is all thatwe can do for to-night, gentlemen. Admiral, keep your patient quiet andin a room with _glass_ windows, preferably with the shades drawn, untilfurther notice. Bolton, meet me here with Carnes at sunrise. Have apicked detail of ten men standing by where we can get hold of them in ahurry. In the mean time, get the Chief of Air Service out of bed andhave him order a plane at Langley Field to be ready to take off at 6A. M. He is not to take off, however, until I give him orders to do so. Do you understand?"

"Everything will be ready for you, Doctor, but I confess that I don'tknow what it is all about. "

"It's the biggest case you ever tackled, old man, and I hope that we canpull it off successfully. I'd like to go over it with you now, but I'llbe busy at the Bureau for the rest of the night. Drop me off there, willyou?"

At sunrise the next morning, Bolton met Dr. Bird at the entrance to theWhite House grounds. 

"Where is your detail?" he asked. 

"In the State, War and Navy Building. "

"Good. I want to go to the solarium, put a light on the place where thePresident's pillow was last night, and mark that pane of quartz we werelooking through. Then we'll join the detail. "

 * * * * *

Dr. Bird placed the light and walked with Carnes across the White Housegrounds. Bolton's badge secured admission to the State, War and NavyBuilding for the party and they made their way to the office of theAssistant to the Adjutant General. 

"Did you mark the pane of glass through which you flashed your lightlast night, Bolton?" asked the Doctor. 

The detective touched one of the panes. 

"Good, " exclaimed the Doctor. "I notice that this window has hooks for awindow washer's belt. Get a life belt, will you?"

When the belt was brought, the Doctor turned to Carnes. 

"Carnes, " he said, "hook on this life saver and climb out on the windowledge. Take this piece of apparatus with you. "

He handed Carnes a piece of apparatus which looked like two telescopesfastened to a base, with a screw adjustment for altering the angles ofthe barrels. 

 * * * * *

Carnes took it and looked at it inquiringly. 

"That is what I was making at the Bureau last night, " explained Dr. Bird. "It is a device which will enable me to locate the source of thebeam which was reflected from this pane of glass onto the President'spillow. I'll show you how to work it. You know that when light isreflected the angle of reflection always equals the angle of incidence?Well, you place these three feet against the pane of glass, thus puttingthe base of the instrument in a plane parallel to the pane of glass. Byturning these two knobs, one of which gives lateral and the othervertical adjustment, you will manipulate the instrument until the firsttelescope is pointing directly toward the President's pillow. Now noticethat the two telescope barrels are fastened together and are connectedto the knobs, so that when the knobs are turned, the scopes are turnedin equal and opposite amounts. When one is turned from its presentposition five degrees to the west, the other automatically turns fivedegrees to the east. When one is elevated, the other is correspondinglydepressed. Thus, when the first tube points toward the pillow, the otherwill point toward the source of the reflected beam. "

"Clever!" ejaculated Bolton. 

"It is rather crude and may not be accurate enough to locate the sourceexactly, but at least it will give us a pretty good idea of where tolook. Given time, a much more accurate instrument could have been made, but two telescopic rifle sights and a theodolite base were all thematerials I could find to work with. Climb out, Carnesy, and do yourstuff. "

 * * * * *

Carnes climbed out on the window and fastened the hooks of the lifesaver to the rings set in the window casings. He sat the base of theinstrument against the pane of glass and manipulated the telescope knobsas Dr. Bird signalled from the inside. The scientist was hard to pleasewith the adjustment, but at last the cross hairs of the first telescopewere centered on the light in the solarium. He changed his position andstared through the second tube. 

"The angle is too acute and the distance too great for accuracy, " hesaid with an air of disappointment. "The beam comes from the roof of ahouse down along Pennsylvania Avenue, but I can't tell from here whichone it is. Take a look, Bolton. "

The Chief of the Secret Service stared through the telescope. 

"I couldn't be sure, Doctor, " he replied. "I can see something on theroof of one of the houses, but I can't tell what it is and I couldn'ttell the house when I got in front of it. "

"It won't do to make a false move, " said the Doctor. "Did you arrangefor that plane?"

"It is waiting your orders at the field, Doctor. "

"Good. I'll go up to the office of the Chief of Air Service and get intouch with the pilot over the Chief's private line. There are someorders that I wish to give him and some signals to be arranged. "

 * * * * *

Dr. Bird returned in a few minutes. 

"The plane is taking off now and will be over the city soon, " heannounced. "We'll take a stroll down the Avenue until we are in thevicinity of the house, and then wait for the plane. Carnes will takefive of your men and go down behind the house and the rest of us will goin front. Which building do you think it is, Bolton?"

"About the fourth from the corner. "

"All right, the men going down the back will take station behind thehouse next to the corner and the rest of us will get in front of thesame building. When the plane comes over, watch it. If you receive nosignal, go to the next house and wait for him to make a loop and comeover you again. Continue this until the pilot throws a white parachuteover. That is the signal that we are covering the right house. When youget that signal, Carnes, leave two men outside and break in with theother three. Get that apparatus on the roof and the men who areoperating it. Bolton and I will attack the front door at the same time. Does everybody understand?"

Murmurs of assent came from the detail. 

"All right, let's go. Carnes, lead out with your men and go half a blockahead so that the two parties will arrive in position at about the sametime. "

 * * * * *

Carnes left the building with five of the operatives. Dr. Bird andBolton waited for a few minutes and then started down PennsylvaniaAvenue, the five men of their squad following at intervals. Forthree-quarters of a mile they sauntered down the street. 

"This should be it, Doctor, " said Bolton. 

"I think so, and here comes our plane. "

They watched the swift scout plane from Langley Field swing down lowover the house and then swoop up into the sky again without making asignal. The party walked down the street one house and paused. Again theplane swept over them without sign. As they stopped in front of the nexthouse a white parachute flew from the cockpit of the plane and theaircraft, its mission accomplished, veered off to the south toward itshangar. 

"This is the place, " cried Bolton. "Haggerty and Johnson, you two coverthe street. Bemis, take the lower door. The rest come with me. "

 * * * * *

Followed closely by Dr. Bird and two operatives, Bolton sprinted acrossthe street and up the steps leading to the main entrance of the house. The door was barred, and he hurled his weight against it without result. 

"One side, Bolton, " snapped Dr. Bird. 

The diminutive Chief drew aside and Dr. Bird's two hundred pounds ofbone and muscle crashed against the door. The lock gave and the Doctorbarely saved himself from sprawling headlong on the hall floor. Awoman's scream rang out, and the Doctor swore under his breath. 

"Upstairs! To the roof!" he cried. 

Followed by the rest of the party, he sprinted up the stairway whichopened before him. Just as he reached the top his way was barred by anAmazonian figure in a green bathrobe. 

"Who th' divil arre yer?" demanded an outraged voice. 

"Police, " snapped Bolton. "One side!"

"Wan side, is it?" demanded the fiery haired Amazon. "The divil a stipye go until ye till me ye'er bizness. Phwat th' divil arre yer doin' inth' house uv a rayspictable female at this hour uv th' marnin'?"

"One side, I tell you!" cried Bolton as he strove to push past thefigure that barred the way. 

"Oh, ye wud, wud yer, little mann?" demanded the Irishwoman as shegrasped Bolton by the collar and shook him as a terrier does a rat. Dr. Bird stifled his laughter with difficulty and seized her by the arm. With a heave on Bolton's collar she raised him from the ground and swunghim against the Doctor, knocking him off his feet. 

"Hilp! P'lice! Murther!" she screamed at the top of her voice. 

"Damn it, woman, we're on--"

 * * * * *

Dr. Bird's voice was cut short by the sound of a pistol shot from theroof, followed by two others. The Irishwoman dropped Bolton and slumpedinto a sitting position and screamed lustily. Bolton and Dr. Bird, withthe two operatives at their heels, raced for the roof. Before theyreached it another volley of shots rang out, these sounding from therear of the building. They made their way to the upper floor and found aladder running to a skylight in the roof. At the foot of the ladderstood one of Carnes' party. 

"What is it, Williams?" demanded Bolton. 

"I don't know, Chief. Carnes and the other two went up there, and then Iheard shooting. My orders were to let no one come down the ladder. "

As he spoke, Carnes' head appeared at the skylight. 

"It's the right place, all right, Doctor, " he called. "Come on up, theshooting is all over. "

 * * * * *

Dr. Bird mounted the ladder and stepped out on the roof. Set on one edgewas a large piece of apparatus, toward which the scientist eagerlyhastened. He bent over it for a few moments and then straightened up. 

"Where is the operator?" he asked. 

Carnes silently led the way to the edge of the roof and pointed down. Dr. Bird leaned over. At the foot of the fire escape he saw a crumpleddark heap, with a secret service operative bending over it. 

"Is he dead, Olmstead?" called Carnes. 

"Dead as a mackerel, " came the reply. "Richards got him through the headon his first shot. "

"Good business, " said Dr. Bird. "We probably could never have secured aconviction and the matter is best hushed up anyway. Bolton, have two ofyour men help me get this apparatus up to the Bureau. I want to examineit a little. Have the body taken to the morgue and shut up the press. Find out which room the chap occupied and search it, and bring all hispapers to me. From a criminal standpoint, this case is settled, but Iwant to look into the scientific end of it a little more. "

"I'd like to know what it was all about, Doctor, " protested Bolton. "Ihave followed your lead blindly, and now I have a housebreaking withoutsearch-warrant and a killing to explain, and still I am about as much inthe dark as I was at the beginning. "

"Excuse me, Bolton, " said Dr. Bird contritely; "I didn't mean to slightyou. Admiral Clay wants to know about it and so does Carnes, although heknows me too well to say so. As soon as I have digested the case I'lllet you know and I'll go over the whole thing with you. "

 * * * * *

A week later Dr. Bird sat in conference with the President in theexecutive office of the White House. Beside him sat Admiral Clay, Carnesand Bolton. 

"I have told the President as much as I know, Doctor, " said the Admiral, "and he would like to hear the details from your lips. He has fullyrecovered from his malady and there is no danger of exciting him. "

"I cannot read Russian, " said Dr. Bird slowly, "and so was forced todepend on one of my assistants to translate the papers which Mr. Boltonfound in Stokowsky's room. There is nothing in them to definitelyconnect him with the Russian Union of Soviet Republics, but there islittle doubt in my mind that he was a Red agent and that Russia suppliedthe money which he spent. It would be disastrous to Russia's plans tohave too close an accord between this country and the British Empire, and I have no doubt that the coming visit of Premier McDougal was theunderlying cause of the attempt. So much for the reason. 

"As to how I came to suspect what was happening, the explanation is verysimple. When Carnes first told me of your malady, Mr. President, Ihappened to be checking Von Beyer's results in the alleged discovery ofa new element, lunium. In the article describing his experiments, VonBeyer mentions that when he tried to observe the spectra, he encountereda mild form of opthalmia which was quite stubborn to treatment. He alsomentions a peculiar mental unbalance and intense exhilaration which therays seemed to cause both in himself and in his assistants. The analogybetween his observations and your case struck me at once. 

 * * * * *

"For ages the moon has been an object of worship by various religioussects, and some of the most obscene orgies of which we have recordoccurred in the moonlight. The full moon seems to affect dogs to a stateof partial hypnosis with consequent howling and evident pain in theeyes. Certain feeble minded persons have been known to be adverselyaffected by moonlight as well as some cases of complete mentalaberration. In other words, while moonlight has no practical effect onthe normal human in its usual concentration, it does have an adverseeffect on certain types of mentality and, despite the laughter ofmedical science, there seems to be something in the theory of 'moonmadness. ' This effect Von Beyer attributed to the emanations of lunium, which element he detected in the spectra of the moon, in the form of awide band in the ultra-violet region. 

 * * * * *

"I obtained from Carnes a history of your case, and when I found thatyour attacks grew violent with the full moon and subsided with the newmoon, I was sure that I was on the right track, although I had at thattime no way of knowing whether it was from natural or artificial causesthat the effect was being produced. I interviewed Admiral Clay and foundthat you were suffering from a form of dermititis resembling sunburn, and that convinced me that an attack was being made on your sanity, foran excess of ultra-violet light will always tend to produce sunburn. Iinquired about the windows of your solarium, for ultra-violet light willnot pass through a lead glass. When the Admiral told me that the glasshad been replaced with fused quartz, which is quite permeable toultra-violet and that the change had been almost coincident with thestart of your malady, I asked him to get you out of the solarium and letme examine it. 

"By means of certain fluorescent substances which I used, I found thatyour pillow was being bathed in a flood of ultra-violet light, and thefluoro-spectroscope soon told me that lunium emanations were present inlarge quantities. These rays were not coming to you directly from theirsource, but one of the windows of the State, War and Navy Building wasbeing used as a reflector. I located the approximate source of the rayby means of an improvised apparatus, and we surrounded the place. Stokowsky was killed while attempting to escape. I guess that is aboutall there is to it. "

"Thank you, Doctor, " said the President. "I would be interested in adescription of the apparatus which he used to produce this effect. "

 * * * * *

"The apparatus was quite simple, Sir. It was merely a large collector ofmoonlight, which was thrown after collection onto a lunium plate. Theresultant emanations were turned into a parallel beam by a parabolicreflector and focused, through a rock crystal lens with an extremelylong focal length, onto your pillow. "

"Then Stokowsky had isolated Von Beyer's new element?" asked thePresident. 

"I am still in doubt whether it is a new element or merely an allotropicmodification of the common element, cadmium. The plate which he used hasa very peculiar property. When moonlight, or any other reflected lightof the same composition falls on it, it acts on the ray much as thebutton of a Roentgen tube acts on a cathode ray. As the cathode ray isabsorbed and an entirely new ray, the X-ray, is given off by the button, just so is the reflected moonlight absorbed and a new ray ofultra-violet given off. This is the ray which Von Beyer detected. Ithought that I could catch traces of Von Beyer's lines in myspectroscope, and I think now that it is due to a trace of lunium in thecadmium plating of the barrels. Von Beyer could have easily made thesame mistake. Von Beyer's work, together with Stokowsky's opens up anentirely new field of spectroscopic research. I would give a good dealto go over to Baden and go into the matter with Von Beyer and make someplans for the exploitation of the new field, but I'm afraid that mypocketbook wouldn't stand the trip. "

"I think that the United States owes you that trip, Dr. Bird, " said theChief Executive with a smile. "Make your plans to go as soon as you getyour data together. I think that the Treasury will be able to take careof the expense without raising the income tax next year. "

 +------------------------------------------------------+ | | | _IN THE NEXT ISSUE_ | | | | | | Murder Madness | | | | _Beginning an intensely Gripping, Four-Part Novel_ | | | | _By_ MURRAY LEINSTER | | | | | | The Atom Smasher | | | | _A Thrilling Adventure into Time and Space_ | | | | _By_ VICTOR ROUSSEAU | | | | | | Into the Ocean's Depths | | | | _A Sequel to_ "_From the Ocean's Depths_" | | | | _By_ SEWELL PEASLEE WRIGHT | | | | | | Brigands of the Moon | | | | _Part Three of the Amazing Serial_ | | | | _By_ RAY CUMMINGS | | | | | | ----_And Others!_ | | | +------------------------------------------------------+

[Illustration: _The Readers' Corner_

_A Meeting Place for Readers of_Astounding Stories]

_Our Thanks_

Three months ago the Clayton Magazines presented to lovers of ScienceFiction everywhere a new magazine with a brand-new policy--AstoundingStories--and now it is the Editor's great pleasure to announce to ourthousands of friends that this new magazine is enjoying a splendidsuccess. 

Within twenty-four hours of the time that Astounding Stories wasreleased for sale, letters of praise began pouring into our office, and--and this is significant--many of them clearly revealed that theirwriters had grasped the essential difference of the new Science Fictionmagazine over the others. 

We cannot better state this difference, this improvement, than byquoting what the Reader whose letter appears under the caption, "AndKind to Their Grandmothers, " says in his very first paragraph: "And Iwas still more pleased, and surprised, to find that the Editor seems toknow that such stories should have real story interest, besides ascientific idea. " It is exactly that. Every story that appears inAstounding Stories not only must contain some of the forecastedscientific achievements of To-morrow, but must be told vividly, excitingly, with all the human interest that goes to make any storyenjoyable To-day. 

The Editor and staff of Astounding Stories express their sincere thanksto all who have contributed to our splendid start--especially to thosewho had the kindness to write in with their helpful criticism. 

Already one of your common suggestions has been taken up and embodied inour magazine, and so we have this new department, "The Readers'Corner, " which from now on will be an informal meeting place for allreaders of Astounding Stories. We want you never to forget that acordial and perpetual invitation is extended to you to write in and talkover with all of us anything of interest you may have to say inconnection with our magazine. 

If you can toss in a word of praise, that's fine; if only criticism, we'll welcome that just as much, for we may be able to find from it away to improve our magazine. If you have your own private theory of howairplanes will be run in 2500, or if you think the real Fourth Dimensionis different from what it is sometimes described--write in and shareyour views with all of us. 

This department is all yours, and the job of running it and making itinteresting is largely up to you. So "come over in 'The Readers'Corner'" and have your share in what everyone will be saying. 

 --_The Editor. _

"_And Kind to Their Grandmothers!_"

 Dear Editor:

 I received a pleasant surprise a few days ago when I found a new Science Fiction magazine at the newsstand--Astounding Stories. And I was still more pleased, and surprised, to find that the Editor seems to know that such stories should have real story interest, besides a scientific idea. 

 Of course I took with a grain of salt the invitation to write to the editor and give my preference of the kind of stories I like. I know that every editor, down in his heart, thinks his magazine is perfect "as is. " In fact, praise is what they want, not suggestions, judging by the letters they print. 

 Well, I can conscientiously give you some praise. If Astounding Stories keep up to the standard of the first issue it will be all right. Evidently you can afford to hire the best writers obtainable. Notice you've signed up some of my favorites, Murray Leinster, R. F. Starzl, Ray Cummings. I like their stuff because it has the rare quality rather vaguely described as "distinction, " which make the story remembered for a long time. 

 The story "Tanks, " by Murray Leinster, is my idea of what such a story should be. The author does not start out, "Listen, my children, and you shall hear a story so wonderful you won't believe it. Only after the death of Professor Bulging Dome do I dare to make it public to a doubting world. " No, he simply proceeds to tell the story. If I were reading it in the Saturday Evening Post or Ladies Home Journal it would be all right to prepare me for the story by explaining that of course the author does not vouch for the story, it having been told to him by a crazy Eurasian in a Cottage Grove black-and-tan speakeasy at 3. 30 A. M. In Astounding Stories I expect the story to be unusual, so don't bother telling me it is so. That criticism applies to "Phantoms of Reality, " which is a story above the average, though, despite its rather flat title and slow beginning. 

 Here's another good point about "Tanks. " Its characters are human. Some authors of stories of the future make their characters all brains--cold monsters, with no humanity in them. Such a story has neither human interest nor plausibility. The sky's the limit, I say, for mechanical or scientific accomplishments, but human emotions will be the same a thousand years from now. And even supposing that they will be changed, your readers have present day emotions. The magazine can not prosper unless those present-day emotions are aroused and mirrored by thoroughly human characters. The situation may be just as outre as you like--the more unusual the better--but it is the response of normal human emotions to most unusual situations that gives a magazine such as yours its powerful and unique "kick. "

 The response of the two infantrymen in "Tanks" to the strange and terrifying new warfare of the future exemplifies another point I would like to make--the fact that no matter what marvels the future may bring, the people who will live then will take them in a matter-of-fact way. Their conversation will be cigarettes, "sag-paste, " drinks, women. References to the scientific marvels around them will be casual and sketchy. How many million words of an average car owner's conversation would you have to report to give a visitor from 1700 an idea of internal combustion engines? The author, if skillful, can convey that information in other ways. Yet a lot of stories printed have long, stilted conversations in which the author thinks he is conveying in an entertaining way his foundation situation. Personally, I like a lot of physical action--violent action preferred. This is so, probably, because I'm a school teacher and sedentary in my habits. I have never written a story in my life, but I'm the most voracious consumer of stories in Chicago. I like to see the hero get into a devil of a pickle, and to have him smash his way out. I like 'em big, tough, and kind to their grandmothers. 

 It seems to me that interplanetary stories offer the best vehicle for all the desirable qualities herein enumerated combined. There is absolutely no restraint on the imagination, except a few known astronomical facts--plenty of opportunity for violent and dangerous adventures, strange and terrestrially impossible monsters. The human actors, set down in the midst of such terrifying conditions, which they battle dauntlessly, grinning as they take their blows and returning them with good will, cannot fail to rouse the admiration of the reader. And make him buy the next month's issue. 

 But spare us, please the stories in which the hero, arriving on some other planet, is admitted to the court of the king of the White race, and leads their battles against the Reds, the Browns, the Greens, and so on, eventually marrying the king's daughter, who is always golden-haired, of milky white complexion, and has large blue eyes. Kindly reject stories of interplanetary travel in which a member of the party turns against the Earth party and allies himself with the wormlike Moon men, or what have you. Stories in which a great inventor gone crazy threatens to hurl the Earth into the Sun leave me cold and despondent, for the simple reason that crazy men are never great inventors. Name a great inventor who wasn't perfectly sane, if you can. The author makes the great inventor insane to make it plausible that he should want to destroy the World. Well, if he is a good author he can find some other motive. 

 One more thing. I like to smell, feel, hear and even taste the action of a story as well as see it. Some authors only let you see it, and then they don't tell you whether it's in bright or subdued light. The author of "Tanks" fulfills my requirements in this respect, at least partially. --Walter Boyle, c/o Mrs. Anna Treitz, 4751 North Artesian, Chicago, Ill. 

_A Permanent Reader_

 Dear Editor:

 I want to thank you for the very entertaining hours I spent perusing your new magazine, Astounding Stories. I read one or two other Science Fiction magazines--it seems that tales of this sort intrigue me. However, I wish to say that the debut number of your magazine contained the best stories I ever read. Again thanking you and assuring you that should the stories continue thus I will be a permanent reader--Irving E. Ettinger, The Seville, Detroit, Mich. 

_We're Avoiding Reprints_

 Dear Editor:

 I am well pleased with your new magazine and wish to offer you my congratulations and best wishes. As I am well acquainted with most of the Science Fiction now being written, I am in a good position to criticize your magazine. 

 First: The cover illustration is good, but the inside drawings could be greatly improved. 

 Second: Holding the magazine together with two staples is a good idea. 

 Third: The paper could be improved. 

 Fourth: The price is right. 

 Here I classify the stories. Excellent: "The Beetle Horde, " and "Tanks. " Very Good: "Cave of Horror, " "Invisible Death, " and "Phantoms of Reality. " Medium: "Compensation. " Poor: "Stolen Mind. "

 Please don't reprint any of Poe's, Wells', or Verne's works. My prejudice to Verne, Wells and Poe is that I have read all their works in other magazines. 

 However, with all my criticizing, I think that your magazine is a good one. --James Nichols, 1509 19th Street, Bakersfield, California. 

_Thanks, Mr. Marks!_

 Dear Editor:

 I purchased a copy of "our" new magazine to-day and I think it excellent. I am glad to see most of my old author friends contributing for it, but how about looking up E. R. Burroughs, David H. Keller, M. D. , C. P. Wantenbacker and A. Merritt? They are marvelous writers. I see Wesso did your cover and it is very good. I have been a reader of four other Science Fiction monthly magazines and two quarterlies, but I gladly take this one into my fold and I think I speak for every other Science Fiction lover when I say this. Which means, if true, that your publication will have everlasting success. Here's hoping!--P. O. Marks, Jr. , 893 York Avenue, S. W. , Atlanta, Ga. 

_A Fine Letter_

 Dear Editor:

 Having read through the first number of Astounding Stories, my enthusiasm has reached such a pitch that I find it difficult to express myself adequately. A mere letter such as this can give scarcely an inkling of the unbounded enjoyment I derive from the pages of this unique magazine. To use a trite but appropriate phrase, "It fills a long-felt need. " True, there are other magazines which specialize in Science Fiction; but, to my mind they are not in a class with Astounding Stories. In most of them the scientific element is so emphasized that it completely overshadows all else. In this magazine, happily, such is not the case. Here we find science subordinated to human interest, which is as it should be. The love element, too, is present and by no means unwelcome. 

 As for the literary quality of the stories, it could not be improved on. Such craftsmen as Cummings, Leinster and Rousseau never fail to turn out a vivid, well-written tale. If the stories in the succeeding issues are on a par with those in the first, the success of the magazine is assured. 

 By the way, your editorial explanation of Astounding Stories was a gem. So many of us take our marvelous modern inventions for granted that we never consider how miraculous they would seem to our forebears. As you say, the only real difference between the Astounding and the Commonplace is Time. A magazine such as Astounding Stories enables us to anticipate the wonders of To-morrow. Through its pages we can peer into the vistas of the future and behold the world that is to be. Truly, you have given us a rare treat--Allen Glasser, 931 Forest Ave. , New York, N. Y. 

_The Science Correspondence Club Broadcasts_

 Dear Editor:

 The other day I came upon Astounding Stories on our local newsstand. I immediately procured a copy because Science Fiction is my favorite pastime, so to speak. I was very much overjoyed that another good Science Fiction magazine should come out, and a Clayton Magazine too, which enhances its splendid value still further. I have read various members of the Clayton family and I found each of them entertaining. 

 After finishing the first issue, I decided to write in and express my feelings. The stories were all good with the exception of "The Stolen Mind. " Just keep printing stories by Cape, Meek, Ray Cummings, Murray Leinster, C. V. Tench, Harl Vincent and R. F. Starzl and I can predict now that your new venture will be a huge success. 

 The main reason of this letter is to ask your help in putting over Science Fiction Week. This will take place in the early part of February, the week of the 5th or after. We want your co-operation in making this a big success. You can help by running the attached article upon the Science Correspondence Club in your "Readers' Corner. " It will be a big aid. 

 I am sure, because you are the Editor of Astounding Stories, that you will be pleased to help us in this venture. Science Fiction is our common meeting ground and our common ideal. 

 I hope to have a Big Science Fiction Week with your help. --Conrad H. Ruppert, 113 North Superior Street, Angola, Indiana. 

 To the Readers of Astounding Stories:

 At the present there exists in the United States an organization the purpose of which is to spread the gospel of Science and Science Fiction, the Science Correspondence Club. I am writing this to induce the readers of Astounding Stories to join us. After reading this pick up your pen or take the cover from your typewriter and send in an application for membership to our Secretary, Raymond A. Palmer, 1431-38th St. , Milwaukee, Wisconsin, or to our President, Aubrey Clements, 6 South Hillard St. , Montgomery, Alabama. They will forward application blanks to you and you will belong to the only organization in the world that is like it. 

 The Club was formed by twenty young men from all over the U. S. We have a roll of almost 100, all over the world. Its expressed purpose has been to help the cause of Science Fiction, and to increase the knowledge of Science. It also affords the advantage of being able to express your ideas in all fields. 

 The Preamble of the Constitution which we have worked out reads: "We, the members of this organization, in order to promote the advancement of Science in general among laymen of the world through the use of discussion and the creation and exchange of new ideas, do ordain and establish this organization for the Science Correspondence Club. "

 Article Two reads: "The institution will remain an organization to establish better co-ordination between the scientifically inclined laymen of the world, regardless of sex, creed, color, or race. There will be no restrictions as to age, providing the member can pass an examination which shall be prepared by the membership committee. "

 The Club will also publish a monthly bulletin, to which members may contribute. It will also publish clippings, articles, etc. , dealing with science. 

 The membership will have no definite limit and the correspondence will be governed by the wishes of each member. 

 Need more be said?

 I almost forgot to say that we have two of the best Science Fiction authors as active members, and three more who are doing their best, but because of such work they cannot be active. 

 I hope my appeal bears fruit and that we shall hear from you soon. --Conrad H. Ruppert. 

_But--Most Everybody Prefers the Smaller Size--and Price!_

 Dear Editor:

 Last night I was passing a newsstand and saw your magazine. I bought it then and there. I do not read any other stories except the fantastic stories. Astounding Stories looks all right, but may I make a suggestions? Why not increase the size of the magazine to that of Miss 1900 or Forest and Stream? It would certainly look better! You could also raise your price to twenty-five cents. Please print as many stories as possible by the following authors: Ray Cummings, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Murray Leinster, Edmond Hamilton, A. Hyatt Verrill, Stanton A. Coblentz, Ed Earl Repp and Harl Vincent. 

 My favorite type of story is the interplanetary one. I wish you the best of luck in your new venture. --Stephen Takacs, 303 Eckford Street, Brooklyn, N. Y. 

"_First Copy Wonderful_"

 Dear Editor:

 I have read the first copy of Astounding Stories and think it wonderful. I am very much interested in science fiction. I prefer interplanetary stories and would like to see many of them in the new magazine. Your authors are fine. The ones I like particularly are Ray Cummings, Captain S. P. Meek, and Murray Leinster. I wonder if I could subscribe to Astounding Stories? Will you let me know? Good luck to the new magazine. --Donald Sisler, 3111 Adams Mill Road, Washington, D. C. 

_Congratulations_

 Dear Editor:

 Allow me to congratulate you upon the starting of your new magazine, Astounding Stories. Have just finished reading the first issue and it is fine. While the class of stories that you publish do not appeal to all, I feel quite sure that there are many like myself who will welcome your publication and wish it all success. --R. E. Norton, P. O. Box 226, Ashtabula, Ohio.