CHAPTER XII

Lieutenant McGuire awoke, as he had on other occasions, to the smell of

sickly-sweet fumes and the stifling pressure of a mask held over his

nose and mouth. He struggled to free himself, and the mask was removed.

Another of the man-creatures whom McGuire had not seen before helped him

to sit up.

A group of the attenuated figures, with their blood-and-ashes faces,

regarded him curiously. The one who had helped him arise forced the

others to stand back, and he gave McGuire a drink of yellow fluid from a

crystal goblet. The dazed man gulped it down to feel a following surge

of warmth and life that pulsed through his paralyzed body. The figures

before him came sharply from the haze that had enveloped them. A window

high above admitted a golden light that meant another day, but it

brought no cheer or encouragement to the flyer. McGuire felt crushed and

hopeless in the knowledge that his life must still go on.

If only that sleep could have continued--carried him out to the deeper

sleep of death! What hope for them here? Not a chance! And then he

remembered Sykes; he mustn't desert Sykes. He looked about him to see

the same prison room from which he and Sykes had escaped. The body of

the scientist was motionless on the hammock-bed across the room; an

occasional deep-drawn breath showed that the man still lived.

No, he must not leave Sykes, even if he had the means of death. They

would fight it through together, and perhaps--perhaps--they might yet be

of service, might find some way to avert the catastrophe that threatened

their world. Hopeless? Beyond doubt. But he must hope--and fight!

The leader had watched the light of understanding as it returned to the

flyer's eyes. He motioned now to the others, and McGuire was picked up

bodily by four of them and carried from the room.

* * * * *

McGuire's mind was alert once more; he was eager to learn what he could

of this place that was to be their prison, but he saw little. A glory of

blending colors beyond, where the golden light from without shone

through opal walls--then he found himself upon a narrow table where

straps of metal were thrown quickly about to bind him fast. He was tied

hand and foot to the table that moved forward on smooth rollers to a

waiting lift.

What next? he questioned. Not death, for they had been too careful to

keep him alive, these repulsive things that stared at him with such cold

malevolence. Then what? And McGuire found himself with unpleasant

recollections of others he had seen strapped in similar fashion to an

operating table.

The lift that he had thought would rise fell smoothly, instead, to stop

at some point far below ground where the table with its helpless burden

was rolled into a great room.

He could move his head, and McGuire turned and twisted to look at the

maze of instruments that filled the room--a super-laboratory for

experiments of which he dared not think.

"Whoever says I'm not scared to death is a liar," he whispered to

himself, but he continued to look and wonder as he was wheeled before a

gleaming machine of many coils and shining, metal parts. A smooth sheet

of metal stood vertically beyond him; painted a grayish-white, he saw;

but he could not imagine its use. A throng of people, seated in the

room, turned blood-red faces toward the bound man and the metal sheet.

"Looks as if we were about to put on a show of some kind," he told

himself, "and I am cast for a leading role." He watched as best he could

from his bound position while a tall figure in robes of lustreless black

appeared to stand beside him.

The newcomer regarded him with a face that was devoid of all emotion.

McGuire felt the lack of the customary expression of hatred; there was

not even that; and he knew he was nothing more than a strange animal,

bound, and helpless, ready for this weird creature's experiments. The

one in black held a pencil whose tip was a tiny, brilliant light.

* * * * *

Abruptly the room plunged to darkness, where the only visible thing was

this one point of light. Ceaselessly it waved back and forth before his

eyes; he followed it in a pattern of strange design; it approached and

receded. Again and again the motion was repeated, until McGuire felt

himself sinking--sinking--into a passive state of lethargy. His muscles

relaxed; his mind was at rest; there seemed nothing in the entire

universe of being but the single point of light that drew him on and on

... till something whispered from the far reaches of black space....

It came to him, an insistent call. It was asking about the earth--his

own world. _What of Earth's armies and their means of defense?_ Vaguely

he sensed the demand, and without conscious volition he responded. He

pictured the world he had known; how plainly he saw the wide field at

Maricopa, and the sweeping flight of a squadron of planes! _Yes--yes!

How high could they ascend?_ From one of the planes he saw the world

below; the ships were near their ceiling; this was the limit of their

climb. _And did they fight with gas? What of their deadliness?_ And

again he was seated in a plane, and he was firing tiny bullets from a

tiny gun. No. They did not use gas. _But on the ground below--what

fortifications? What means of defense?_

McGuire's mind was no longer his own; he could only respond to that

invisible questioner, that insistent demand from out of the depths where

he was floating. And yet there was something within him that protested,

that clamored at his mind and brain.

Fortifications! They must know about fortifications--anti-aircraft

guns--means for combatting aerial attack. Yes, he knew, and he must

explain--and the thing within him pounded in the back of his brain to

draw him back to himself.

He saw a battery of anti-aircraft guns in operation; the guns were

firing; shells were bursting in little plumes of smoke high in the air.

And that self within him was shouting now, hammering at him; "You are

seeing it," it told him; "it is there before you on the screen. Stop!

Stop!"

* * * * *

And for an instant McGuire had the strange experience of witnessing his

own thoughts. Memories, mental records of past experience, were flashing

through his mind; mock battles, and the batteries were firing! And,

before him, on the metal screen, there glowed a vivid picture of the

same thing. Men were serving the guns with sure swiftness; the bursts

were high in the air--in a flash of understanding Lieutenant McGuire

knew that he was giving his country's secrets to the enemy. And in that

same instant he felt himself swept upward from the depths of that

darkness where he had drifted. He was himself again, bound and helpless

before an infernal contrivance of these devil-creatures. They had read

his thoughts; the machine beside him had projected them upon the screen

for all to see; a steady clicking might mean their reproduction in

motion pictures for later study! He, Lieutenant McGuire, was a traitor

against his will!

The screen was blank, and the lights of the room came on to show the

thin lips that smiled complacently in a cruel and evil face.

McGuire glared back into that face, and he tried with all the mental

force that he could concentrate to get across to the exultant one the

fact that they had not wholly conquered him. This much they had got--but

no more!

The thin-lipped one had an instrument in his hand, and McGuire felt the

prick of a needle plunged into his arm. He tried to move his head and

found himself powerless. And now, in the darkness of the room where all

lights were again extinguished, the helpless man was fighting the most

horrible of battles, and the battleground was within his own mind. He

was two selves, and he fought and struggled with all his consciousness

to keep those memories from flooding him.

With one part of himself he knew what it meant: a sure knowledge given

these invaders of what they must prepare to meet; he was betraying his

country; the whole of humanity! And that raging, raving self was

powerless to check the flow of memory pictures that went endlessly

through his mind and out upon the screen beyond....

He had no sense of time; he was limp and exhausted with his fruitless

struggle when he felt himself released from the bondage of the metal

straps and placed again in the hammock in his room. And he could only

look wanly and hopelessly after the figure of Professor Sykes, carried

by barbarous figures to the same ordeal.

* * * * *

Sleep, through the long night, restored both McGuire and his companion

to normal strength. The flyer was seated with his head bowed low in his

cupped hands. His words seemed wrung from an agony of spirit. "So that's

what they brought us here for," he said harshly; "that's why they're

keeping us alive!"

Professor Sykes walked back and forth in their bare room while he shook

his impotent fists in the air.

"I told them everything," he exploded; "everything!" Their astronomical

knowledge must be limited; under this blanket of clouds they can see

nothing, and from their ships they could make approximations only.

"And I have told them--the earth, and its days and seasons--its orbital

velocity and motion--its relation to the orbit of this accursed planet.

They had documents from the observatory and I explained them; I

corrected their time of firing their big gun on its equatorial position.

Oh, there is little I left untold--damn them!"

"I wish to heaven," said the flyer savagely, "that we had known; we

would have jumped out of their beastly ship somehow ten thousand feet

up, and we would have taken our information with us."

Sykes nodded agreement. "Well," he asked, "how about to-morrow, and the

next day, and the next? They will want more facts; they will pump the

last drop of information from us. Are we going to allow it?"

* * * * *

McGuire's tone was dry. "You know the answer to that as well as I do. We

have just two alternatives; either we get out of here--find some place

to hide in, then find some way to put a crimp in their plans; or we get

out of here for good. It's twenty feet, not twenty thousand, from that

window to the ground, but I think a head-first dive would do it."

Sykes did not reply at once; he seemed to be weighing some problem in

his mind.

"I would prefer the water," he said at last. "If we _can_ get away and

reach the shore, and if there is not a possibility of escape--which I

must admit I consider highly improbable--well, we can always swim out as

far as we can go, and the result will be certain.

"This other is so messy." The man had stopped his ceaseless pacing, and

he even managed a cheerful smile at the lieutenant. "And, remember, it

might only cripple us and leave us helpless in their hands."

"Sounds all right to me," McGuire agreed, and there was a tone of

finality in his voice as he added: "They've made us do that traitor act

for the last time, anyway."

* * * * *

Daylight comes slowly through cloud-filled skies; the window of the

room where the fountain sprayed ceaselessly was showing the first hint

of gold in the eastern sky. Above was the utter darkness of the

cloud-wrapped night as the two men swung noiselessly out into the

grotesque branches of a tree to make their way into the gloom below.

There, under the cover of great leaves, they crouched in silence, while

the darkness about them faded and a sound of subdued whistling noises

came to them from the night.

A wheel creaked, and in the dim light two figures appeared tugging at a

cart upon which was a cage of woven wire. Beyond them, against the

darker background of denser growth, tentacles coiled and twisted above

the row of guardian plants that surrounded the house.

One of the ghostly forms reached within the cage and brought forth a

struggling object that whimpered in fear. The low whine came distinctly

to the hidden men. They saw a vague black thing tossed through the air

and toward the deadly plants; they heard the swishing of pliant

tentacles and the yelping cry of a frightened animal. And the cry rose

to a shriek that ended with the gulping splash of thick liquid.

The giant pod next in line was open--they could see it dimly--and its

tentacles were writhing convulsively, hungrily, across the ground.

Another animal was taken from the cage and thrown to the waiting,

serpent forms that closed about and whirled it high in air. Another--and

another! The yelps of terror grew faint in the distance as the monsters

passed on in their gruesome work. And the two men, palpitant with

memories of their own experience, were limp and sick with horror.

* * * * *

In the growing light they saw more plainly the fleshy, pliant arms that

whipped through the air or felt searchingly along the ground. No hope

there for bird or beast that passed by in the night; nor for men, as

they knew too well. But now, as the golden light increased, the arms

drew back to form again the tight-wound coils that flattened themselves

beside the monstrous pods whose lips were closing. Locked within them

were the pools of liquid that could dissolve a living body into food for

these vampires of the vegetable world.

"Damnable!" breathed Sykes in a savage whisper. "Utterly damnable! And

this world is peopled with such monsters!"

The last deadly arm was tightly coiled when the men stole off through

the lush growth that reached even above their heads. McGuire remembered

the outlines he had seen from the air and led the way where, if no

better concealment could be found, the ocean waited with promise of rest

and release from their inhuman captors.

They counted on an hour's start--it would be that long before their

jailer would come with their morning meal and give the alarm--and now

they went swiftly and silently through the stillness of a strange world.

The air that flicked misty-wet across their faces was heavy and heady

with the perfume of night-blooming plants. Crimson blossoms flung wide

their odorous petals, and the first golden light was filtered through

tremendous tree-growths of pale lavenders and grays to show as unreal

colors in the vegetation close about them.

* * * * *

They found no guards; the isolation of this island made the land itself

their prison, and the men ran at full speed through every open space,

knowing as they ran that there was no refuge for them--only the ocean

waiting at the last. But their flight was not unobserved.

A great bird rose screaming from a tangle of vines; its heavy, flapping

wings flashed red against the pale trees. A pandemonium of shrieking

cries echoed its alarm as other birds took flight; the forest about them

was in an uproar of harsh cries. And faintly, from far in the rear, came

a babel of shrill calls--weird, inhuman!--the voices of the men-things

of Venus.

"It's all off," said McGuire sharply; "they'll be on our trail now!" He

plunged through where the trees were more open, and Sykes was beside him

as they ran with a burst of speed toward a hilltop beyond.

They paused, panting, upon the crest. A wide expanse of foliage in

delicate shadings swept out before them to wave gently in a sea of color

under the morning breeze, and beyond was another sea that beckoned with

white breakers on a rocky shore.

"The ocean!" gasped Sykes, and pointed a trembling hand toward their

goal. "But--I had no idea--that suicide--was--such hard work!"

The tall figure of Lieutenant McGuire turned to the shorter, breathless

man, and he gripped hard at one of his hands.

"Sykes," he said, "I'll never get another chance to say it--but you're

one good scout!... Come on!"

* * * * *

McGuire fought to force his way through jungle growth, while screaming

birds marked where they went. The sounds of their pursuers were close

behind them when the two tore their way through the last snarled tangle

of pale vine to stand on a sheer bluff, where, below, deep waters

crashed against a rocky wall. They staggered with weariness and gulped

sobbingly of the morning air. McGuire could have sworn he was exhausted

beyond any further effort, yet from somewhere he summoned energy to

spring savagely upon a tall, blood-red figure whose purpling face rose

suddenly to confront them.

One hand closed upon the metal tube that the other hand raised, and,

with his final reserve of strength, the flyer wrapped an arm about the

tall body and rushed it stumblingly toward the cliff. To be balked

now!--to be brought back to that intolerable prison and the unthinkable

role of traitor! The khaki-clad figure wrenched furiously at the deadly

tube as they struggled and swayed on the edge of the cliff.

He freed his arm quickly, and, regardless of the clawing thing that tore

at his face and eyes, he launched one long swing for the horrible face

above him. He saw the awkward fall of a lean body, and he swayed

helplessly out to follow when the grip of Sykes' hand pulled him back

and up to momentary safety.

McGuire's mind held only the desire to kill, and he would have begun a

staggering rush toward the shrieking mob that broke from the cover

behind them, had not Sykes held him fast. At sight of the weapon, their

own gas projector, still clutched in the flyer's hand, the pursuers

halted. Their long arms pointed and their shrill calls joined in a

chorus that quavered and fell uncertainly.

* * * * *

One, braver than the rest, dashed forward and discharged his weapon. The

spurting gas failed to reach its intended victims; it blew gently back

toward the others who fled quickly to either side. Above the trees a

giant ship nosed swiftly down, and McGuire pointed to it grimly and in

silence. The men before them were massed now for a rush.

"This is the end," said the flyer softly. "I wonder how this devilish

thing works; there's a trigger here. I will give them a shot with the

wind helping, then we'll jump for it."

The ship was above them as the slim figure of Lieutenant McGuire threw

itself a score of paces toward the waiting group. From the metal tube

there shot a stream of pale vapor that swept downward upon the others

who ran in panic from its touch.

Then back--and a grip of a hand!--and two Earth-men who threw themselves

out and downward from a sheer rock wall to the cool embrace of deep

water.

They came to the top, battered from their fall, but able to dive under a

wave and emerge again near one another.

"Swim!" urged Sykes. "Swim out! They may get us here--recover our

bodies--resuscitate us. And that wouldn't do!"

Another wave, and the two men were swimming beyond it; swimming feebly

but steadily out from shore, while above them a great cylinder of

shining metal swept past in a circling flight. They kept on while their

eyes, from the wave tops, saw it turn and come slowly back in a long

smooth descent.

It was a hundred feet above the water a short way out at sea, and the

two men made feeble motions with arms and legs, while their eyes

exchanged glances of dismay.

* * * * *

A door had opened in the round under-surface, and a figure, whose

gas-suit made it a bloated caricature of a man, was lowered from beneath

in a sling. From the stern of the ship gaseous vapor belched downward to

spread upon the surface of the water. The wind was bringing the misty

cloud toward them. "The gas!" said McGuire despairingly. "It will knock

us out, and then that devil will get us! They'll take us back! Our last

chance--gone!"

"God help us!" said Sykes weakly. "We can't--even--die--" His feeble

strokes stopped, and he sank beneath the water. McGuire's last picture

as he too sank and the waters closed over his head, was the shining ship

hovering beyond.

He wondered only vaguely at the sudden whirling of water around him. A

solid something was rising beneath his dragging feet; a firm, solid

support that raised him again to the surface. He realized dimly the air

about him, the sodden form of Professor Sykes some few feet distant. His

numbed brain was trying to comprehend what else the eyes beheld.

A metal surface beneath them rose higher, shining wet, above the water;

a metal tube raised suddenly from its shield, to swing in quick aim upon

the enemy ship approaching from above.

His eyes moved to the ship, and to the man-thing below in the sling. Its

clothes were a mass of flame, and the figure itself was falling headlong

through the air. Above the blazing body was the metal of the ship

itself, and it sagged and melted to a liquid fire that poured, splashing

and hissing, to the waters beneath. In the wild panic the great shape

threw itself into the air; it swept out and up in curving flight to

plunge headlong into the depths....

The gas was drifting close, as McGuire saw an opening in the structure

beside him. The voice of a man, human, kindly, befriending, said

something of "hurry" and "gas," and "lift them carefully but make

haste." The white faces of men were blurred and indistinct as McGuire

felt himself lowered into a cool room and laid, with the unconscious

form of Sykes, upon a floor.

He tried to remember. He had gone down in the water--Sykes had drowned,

and he himself--he was tired--tired. "And this,"--the thought seemed a

certainty in his mind--"this is death. How--very--peculiar--" He was

trying to twist his lips to a weak laugh as the lighted ports in the

wall beside him changed from gold to green, then black--and a rushing of

torn waters was in his ears....

(_To be continued_)

* * * * *

ASTOUNDING STORIES

_Appears on Newsstands_

THE FIRST THURSDAY IN EACH MONTH

The Sea Terror

_By Captain S. P. Meek_

The trail of mystery gold leads Carnes and Dr. Bird to a

tremendous monster of the deep.

[Illustration: "_The mass hung over the ship._"]

"I beg your pardon, sir. I'm looking for Dr. Bird."

The famous Bureau of Standards scientist appraised the speaker rapidly.

Keen blue eyes stared questioningly at him from a mahogany brown face,

criss-crossed with a thousand tiny wrinkles. The tattooed anchor on his

hand and the ill-fitting blue serge suit smacked of the sea while the

squareness of his shoulders and the direct gaze of his eye spoke

eloquently of authority.

"I'm Dr. Bird, Captain. What can I do for you?"

"Thank you, Doctor, but I'm not a captain. My name is Mitchell and I am,

or was, the first mate of the _Arethusa_."

"The _Arethusa_!" Operative Carnes of the United States Secret Service

sprang to his feet. "You said the _Arethusa_? There _were_ no

survivors!"

"I believe that I am the only one."

"Where have you been hiding and why haven't you reported the fact of

your rescue to the proper authorities? Tell the truth; I'm a federal

officer!"

Carnes flashed the gold badge of the Secret Service and an expression of

anger crossed Mitchell's face.

"If I had wished to talk to an officer I could have found plenty in New

York," he said shortly. "I came to Washington in order to tell my story

to Dr. Bird."

The seaman and the detective glared at one another for a moment and then

Dr. Bird intervened.

"Pipe down, Carnes," he said softly. "Mr. Mitchell undoubtedly has

reasons, excellent reasons, for his actions. Sit down, Mr. Mitchell, and

have a cigar."

* * * * *

Mitchell accepted the cigar which the doctor proferred and took a chair.

He lighted the weed and after another glance of hostility toward the

detective he pointedly ignored him and addressed his remarks to Dr.

Bird.

"I have no objection to telling you why I haven't spoken earlier,

Doctor," he said. "When the _Arethusa_ sank, I must have hit my head on

something, for the next thing I knew, I was in the Marine Hospital in

New York. I had been picked up unconscious by a fishing boat and brought

in, and I lay there a week before I knew anything. When I knew what I

was doing I heard about the loss of my ship and was told that there were

no survivors, and I didn't know what to do. The story I had to tell was

so weird and improbable that I hesitated to speak to anyone about it. I

was not sure at first that it was not a trick of a disordered brain, but

since my head has cleared I am convinced of the truth of it ... and yet

I know that it _can't_ be so. I have read about you and some of the

things you have done, and so as soon as I was able to travel I came

here to tell you about it. You will be better able to judge than I,

whether what I tell you really happened or was only a vision."

Dr. Bird leaned back in his chair and put the tips of his fingers

together. Long, tapering fingers they were, sensitive and well shaped,

though sadly marred by acid stains. It was in his hands alone that Dr.

Bird showed the genius in his make-up, the artistry which inspired him

to produce those miracles of experimentation which had made his name a

household word in the realm of science. Aside from those hands he more

resembled a pugilist than a scientist. A heavy shock of unruly black

hair surmounted a face with beetling black brows and a prognathous jaw.

His enormous head, with a breadth and height of forehead which were

amazing, rose from a pillar-like neck which sprang from a pair of

massive shoulders and the arching chest of the trained athlete. Dr. Bird

stood six feet two inches in his socks, and weighed over two hundred

stripped. As he leaned back a curious glitter, which Carnes had learned

to associate with keen interest, showed for an instant in his eyes.

"I will be glad to hear your story, Mr. Mitchell," he said softly. "Tell

it in your own way and try not to omit any detail, no matter how trivial

it may be."

* * * * *

The seaman nodded and sat silent for a moment as though marshaling his

thoughts.

"The story really starts the afternoon of May 12th," he said, "although

I didn't realize the importance of the first incident at the time. We

were steaming along at good speed, hoping to make New York before too

late for quarantine, when a hail came from the forward lookout. I was on

watch and I went forward to see what was the matter. The lookout was

Louis Green, an able bodied seaman and a good one, but a confirmed

drunkard. I asked him what the trouble was and he turned toward me a

face that was haggard with terror.

"'I've seen a sea serpent, Mr. Mitchell,' he said.

"'Nonsense!' I replied sharply. 'You've been drinking again.'

"He swore that he hadn't and I asked him to describe what he had seen.

His teeth were chattering so that he could hardly speak, but he gasped

out a story about seeing a monstrous head, a half mile across, he said,

with a long snake body stretching out over the sea until the end of it

was lost on the horizon. I turned my glass in the direction he pointed

and of course there was nothing to be seen. The man's condition was such

as to make him worse than useless as a lookout, so I relieved him and

ordered him below. I took it for a touch of delirium tremens.

"We were bucking a head wind, although not a very stiff one, and we

didn't make port until after dark, so we anchored at quarantine, just

off Staten Island, in forty fathoms of water, and Captain Murphy radioed

for a Coast Guard boat to come out and lay by us for the night. As you

have probably heard, we were carrying four millions in bar gold

consigned to the Federal Reserve Bank of New York from the Bank of

England."

* * * * *

Dr. Bird and Carnes nodded. The inexplicable loss of the _Arethusa_ had

occupied much space in the papers ten days earlier.

"The cutter came out, signalled, and dropped anchor about three hundred

yards away. So far, everything was exactly as it should be. I walked to

the stern of the boat and looked out across the Atlantic and then I

realized that Green wasn't the only one who could see things. The wind

had fallen and it was getting pretty dark, but not too dark to see

things a pretty good distance away. As I looked I saw, or thought I saw,

a huge black leathery mass come to the surface a mile or so away. There

were two things on it that looked like eyes, and I had a feeling as

though some malignant thing was staring at me. I rubbed my eyes and

looked again, but the vision persisted, and I went forward to get a

glass. When I came back the thing, whatever it was, had disappeared, but

the water where it had been was boiling as though there were a great

spring or something of the sort under the surface.

"I trained my glass on the disturbed area, and I will take my oath

that I saw a huge body like a snake emerge from the water. It lay in

long undulations on the waves, and moved with them as though it were

floating. It was quite a bit nearer than the first thing had been and

I could see it plainly with the glass. I would judge it to be fifteen

or twenty feet thick, and it actually seemed to disappear in the

distance as Green had described it. The sight of the thing sent shivers

up and down my spine, and I gave a hoarse shout. The lookout hurried

to my side and asked me what the trouble was. I pointed and handed

him the glass. He looked through it and handed it back to me with a

curious expression.

"'I can't see nothing, sir,' he said.

"I took the glass from him and tried to level it but my hands were

trembling so that I was forced to rest it on the rail. The lookout was

right. There was absolutely nothing to be seen and the peculiar

appearance of the sea had subsided to normal. The lookout was staring at

me rather curiously and I knew that he was thinking the same thing about

me as I had thought about Green in the afternoon. I made some kind of an

excuse and went below to pull myself together. I caught a glimpse of

myself in the glass. I was as white as a sheet, and the sweat was

running off my face in drops.

* * * * *

"I shook myself together after a fashion and managed to persuade myself

that the whole thing was just a trick of my mind, inspired by Green's

vivid description of his delirious vision of the afternoon. Eight bells

struck, and when Mr. Fulton, the junior officer, relieved me, I laid

down and tried to quiet myself. I didn't have much luck. Just before I

took the deck again at midnight I slipped down to the forecastle to see

how Green was coming along. He was lying in his bunk, wide awake, with

staring eyes.

"'How are you feeling now, Green?' I asked.

"He looked up at me with an expression of a man who has looked death in

the face.

"'Ain't there no chance of dockin' to-night, Mr. Mitchell?' he asked.

"'Of course not,' I said rather sharply. 'What's the matter with you?

Are you afraid your sea serpent will get us?'

"'He'll get us if we stay out here to-night, sir,' he replied with an

air of conviction. 'I saw the horrible mouth on him, large enough to

bite this ship in half; and it had a beak like a bird, like a bloody

parrot, sir. I saw its horrible body, too, with great black ulcers on

the under side of it where the sharks had been after it. For all the

shark takes a man now and then, he's the seaman's friend, sir, because

he kills off the sea serpents who would take ship and all.'

"'Nonsense, Green!' I said sharply. 'Don't talk any more such

foolishness or I'll have you ironed. You've been drinking so much that

you are seeing things, and I won't have the crew disturbed by your crazy

talk.'

"'You won't think it's talk when those big eyes stare into yours

to-night, Mr. Mitchell, and that body twists around you and squeezes the

life out of you. I don't care whether you iron me or not; I know that

I'm doomed and so is everyone else; but I won't talk about it, sir. The

crew might as well rest easy while they can, for there's no escape if we

have to stay out here to-night.'

"'Well, be sure you keep a tight mouth then,' I said, and left rather

hurriedly. I was in a cold sweat, for his air of conviction, together

with what I had seen, had shaken me pretty badly. I heard the watch

changing up above, and knew there would be men in the forecastle in a

minute. I didn't want to face them right then.

* * * * *

"Mr. Fulton reported everything quiet when I went on deck to relieve

him, and although I surveyed the water through a night glass for as far

as I could see, there was nothing out of the way. The Coast Guard's

lights were shining less than a quarter of a mile away, and things

looked peaceful enough. The wind had gone down with the sun; the sea was

almost glassy, and there was a bright moon.

"After going around the ship, I relieved all of the watch except two men

for lookouts, and sent them below to get a good night's sleep. If I

hadn't done that, some of them might be alive now.

"I paced the deck for an hour trying to quiet my nerves, but really

getting more nervous every minute. Three bells struck and I walked

forward and leaned on the rail to watch the water. I saw a peculiar

swirl as though some large body were coming to the surface from below,

and then I saw--it.

"Dr. Bird, I take a drink once in a while when I am on shore, but never

at sea and never in excess, and I know it wasn't a vision of drink

delirium. I felt perfectly normal aside from my nervousness, and I don't

think it was fever. Either I saw it or I am insane, for it is as vivid

to me as though I were standing on the _Arethusa's_ deck and that

monstrous horror was rising once more before my eyes."

The seaman's face had become drawn and white as he talked, and drops of

sweat were trickling from his chin. Carnes sat forward absorbed in his

narrative while Dr. Bird sat back with a glitter in his black eyes and

an expression of great attention on his face.

"Go on, Mr. Mitchell," the doctor said soothingly. "Tell me just what

you saw."

* * * * *

Mitchell shuddered and glanced quickly around the laboratory as though

to assure himself that he was safe within four walls.

"From the surface of the sea," he went on, "rose a massive body, black,

and of the appearance of wet leather. It must have been a couple of

hundred yards across, although the size of objects is often magnified by

moonlight and my terror may have added to its size. In the midst of it

were two great discs, thirty feet across, which glowed red with the

reflected moonlight. It stared for a moment and then rose higher until

it towered above the ship; and then I saw, or thought I saw, a huge

gaping beak like a parrot's. It was as Green had described it, large

enough to bite the _Arethusa_ in half, and she was a ship of three

thousand tons.

"I was frozen with horror and couldn't move or cry out. As I watched, I

saw the long snake-like body emerge from the water, and the estimate I

had made of the size in the afternoon seemed pitifully inadequate.

Presently a second and a third snake arose from the water, and then

more, until the whole sea and the air above it seemed a writhing mass of

huge snakes. I remember wondering why the watch of the Coast Guard

cutter didn't sound an alarm, and then I realized that the thing had

arisen on our port side and the cutter was on the starboard.

"The mass of snakes writhed backward and forward, and then two of them

rose in the air and hung over the ship. I could see the under side and I

saw what Green had called the scars where the sharks had attacked. They

were great cup-shaped depressions with vile white edges, and they did

resemble huge sores or ulcers. They wavered over the ship for an

instant, and then both of them dropped down on the deck.

"I found my voice and I think that I gave a yell, but even as I opened

my mouth, I realized the futility of it. The _Arethusa_ was sucked down

into the sea as though it had been a tiny chip. I saw the water rising

to the rail, and I think I cried out again. The ship tilted and I felt

myself falling. The next thing I knew was when I was in the hospital and

was told that I had been raving for a week. I was afraid to tell my

story for fear I would be put in an asylum, so I kept a tight tongue in

my head until I was discharged."

* * * * *

Dr. Bird mused for a moment as the seaman's voice stopped.

"You cried out all right, Mr. Mitchell," he said. "You gave two distinct

shouts, both of which were heard by the watch on the _Wren_, the Coast

Guard cutter. They reported that at 1:30, the _Arethusa_ sank without

warning. As soon as he heard your shouts, the watch gave the alarm and

the crew piled on deck. The _Arethusa_ was gone completely and the

_Wren_ was tossing about like 'a chip in a whirlpool' as they

graphically described it. The _Wren_ had steam up and they fought the

waves and steamed over your anchoring ground looking for survivors, but

they found none. The sea gradually subsided and they did the only thing

they could do--dropped a buoy, to guide the salvage people, and radioed

for assistance. The _Robin_ came out and joined them, and both cutters

stood by until daylight, but nothing unusual was seen. The insurance

people are trying to salvage the wreck now, but so far they have made

little headway."

"That brings me to the rest of the story, the part that made me decide

to come to you, Doctor," said the seaman. "Did you see what happened to

the divers yesterday?"

Dr. Bird nodded.

"I saw a brief account of it," he said. "It seems that two of them were

lost through their lines getting fouled and their air connections

severed in some way. I don't believe the bodies have been recovered

yet."

"They never will be recovered, Doctor. I was discharged from the

hospital yesterday and the papers were just out with an account of it. I

went down to the dock where the _John MacLean_, the salvage ship, ties

up, and I talked to Captain Starley who commands it. I have known him

casually for some years, although not intimately, and he gave me a few

more details than the press got. He didn't connect me up at first with

the Mitchell who was reported lost on the _Arethusa_.

"The first man to go down from the _MacLean_ was Charley Melrose, an

expert diver. He went down in a pressure outfit to the bottom and

started to work. Everything was going along fine until the telephone

suddenly rang and the man who answered it heard him say, 'Raise me, for

God's sake! Hurry!' The signal for raising was given, but they hadn't

got him more than thirty feet from the bottom before there came a tug on

the line and he was gone! The air line, the lifting cable and the

telephone cord floated free and were reeled in. Melrose had been plucked

off the end of that line as you or I would pluck off a grape."

* * * * *

Dr. Bird leaned forward with the curious glitter again in his eye.

"Go on," he said tersely.

"Blake, the other diver, donned a suit and insisted on being lowered at

once. Starley tried to dissuade him but he insisted on going down. They

lowered him over the side with a twelve-foot steel-shod pike in his

hand. He never got to the bottom. He had not been lowered more than a

hundred feet when a scream came over the telephone, and again there was

a jerk on the lines which threatened to wreck the reel--and the line

came aboard with no diver on the end of it. At the same time, Starley

told me, the sea boiled and churned as though the whole bottom were

coming up, and his ship was tossed about as though it were in a violent

storm, although it was calm enough for forty fathom salvage work and

that is pretty quiet, you know. Half the time his screws were out of

water and he had a hard time to keep from being capsized. He fought his

way out of the disturbed area, and as soon as he did, it started to

quiet down, and in ten minutes it was calm again.

"Starley was pretty badly shaken and besides he had lost both of his

divers, so he came in and I saw him at the dock. When I heard his yarn,

I took him into my confidence and told him what I had seen and that I

proposed coming to you and asking your advice. I was afraid until I

heard his story that it was merely a vision that I had had, but it

certainly was no vision that plucked those two divers off their lines."

"Has Captain Starley told that story to anyone else yet?"

"No, Doctor, he hasn't. He promised not to talk until after I had seen

you. I'll vouch for him; he'll keep his word through anything; and he is

keeping his whole crew on board until he hears from me."

* * * * *

Dr. Bird sprang to his feet.

"Mr. Mitchell," he said energetically, "you have shown excellent

judgment. Wire Captain Starley that you have seen me and that he is to

hold his crew on board and to talk to no one until I get there. Carnes,

telephone the Chief of Naval Operations and ask him to receive me in

conference at once. Have him get the Secretary of the Navy in, too, if

he is available. When you have finished that, telephone Bolton that you

will be away from Washington indefinitely."

"I'll telephone Admiral Buck for you, Doctor, but I don't dare telephone

any such message to Bolton; he'd take my head off. He has been running

the whole service ragged lately, and this is my first afternoon off duty

in a fortnight."

"What's the trouble, a flood of new counterfeits?"

"No, the counterfeit division is getting along all right. In point of

fact, they have lent us a dozen men. The trouble is a sudden big

increase in Communist activity throughout the country, with the Young

Labor party behind it. Bolton has been pretty jumpy since that Stokowski

affair last August and he is afraid of another attempt of some sort on

the President."

"The Young Labor party? I thought that gang was bankrupt and out of

business, since the Coast Guard broke up their alien smuggling scheme."

"They were down and out for a while, but they are in funds again--and

how! They must have three or four millions at least."

"Where did they get it?"

"That's what we have been trying to find out. The leaders have presented

bars of gold to a dozen banks throughout the country and demanded

specie. The banks shipped the gold to the mint and it was good gold,

nine hundred and twenty-five fine. What we are trying to find out is how

that gold got into the United States."

"A shipment of that size should be easy to trace."

"It would seem so, but it hasn't been. We have accounted for every pound

of every shipment that has come in through a port of entry, and we have

checked almost that close on the output of every mine in the United

States. If the gold came from Russia, it would have had to cross Europe,

and we can't get any trace of it from abroad. It looks as though they

were _making_ it."

* * * * *

Dr. Bird rubbed his head thoughtfully.

"Possible, but hardly probable," he said. "How much did you say they

had?"

"Over three millions in thirty-pound bars. Each bar shows signs of

having a mint mark chiselled off, but that don't help much for they have

done too good a job. It has us pretty well bluffed."

Again Dr. Bird rubbed his head.

"Telephone Admiral Buck, and then phone Bolton and tell him exactly what

I told you to: that you will be away indefinitely. When he gets through

exploding, tell him that you are going with me and that possibly, just

barely possibly, we might be on the trail of that gold shipment."

"On the trail of the gold!" gasped Carnes. "Surely, Doctor, you don't

think--"

"Once in a while, old dear," replied the Doctor with a chuckle, "which

is more than anyone in the Secret Service does. You might tell Bolton

that I said that, but hang up quickly if you do. I don't want the wires

of my telephone melted off. No, Carnesy, I have no miraculous

inspiration as to where that gold is coming from; I just have a plain

old-fashioned hunch, and that hunch is that we are going to have lots of

fun and more than our share of danger before we see Washington again.

After you get through bearding Bolton in his den, you might call the

Chief of the Air Corps and ask him to have a bomber held at Langley

Field subject to my orders. If he squawks any, I'll talk to him."

He turned to a telephone which stood on his desk and lifted the

receiver.

"Get Mr. Lambertson on the wire," he said. "He is the chief technician

of the Pyrex Glass Works at Corning, New Jersey."

* * * * *

The _U.S.S. Minneconsin_ steamed out of New York harbor and headed down

toward the lower bay. On her forward deck rested a huge globe. The

bottom quarter of the sphere was made of some dark opaque substance but

the upper portion was transparent as crystal. Through the walls could be

seen a quantity of apparatus resting on the opaque bottom portion. Two

mechanics from the Bureau of Standards were making final adjustments of

one of the pieces of apparatus, which resembled a tank fitted with a

piston geared to an electric motor. From the tank, tubes ran to four

hollow pipes, an inch and a half in diameter, which ran through the skin

and extended thirty inches from the outer skin of the twenty-foot

sphere. Dr. Bird stood near talking with the executive officer of the

ship and from time to time giving a brief word of direction to the

mechanics.

"It's safer than you might think, Commander," he said. "In the first

place, that globe is not made of ordinary glass; it is made of

vitrilene, a new semi-malleable glass which was developed at the Bureau

and which is being made on an experimental scale for us by the Pyrex

people. It is much stronger than ordinary glass, and is not sensitive to

shock. It is also perfectly transparent to ultra-violet light, being

superior even to rock crystal or fused quartz in that respect. The

walls, as you have noticed, are four inches thick, and I have calculated

that the ball will stand a uniform external pressure of thirty-five

hundred atmospheres, the pressure which would be encountered at a depth

of about twenty miles. I believe that it will stand a squeeze of six

thousand tons without buckling, and it is impossible to fracture it by

shock. It could be dropped from the top of the Woolworth Building, and

it would just bounce."

"It seems incredible that it could stand such a pressure as you have

named."

"My figures are conservative ones. Lambertson calculated them even

higher, but we allowed for the fact that this is the first large mass of

the material to be cast, and lowered them."

* * * * *

"But suppose your lifting cable should break?" objected the naval

officer. "The outfit weighs a good many tons."

"You notice that the lower quarter is made of lead. The specific gravity

of the entire globe when sealed up tight with two men in it is only a

little more than unity. In the water its weight is so little that a

three-inch manilla hawser would raise it, let alone a steel cable. I

have another safety device. Granted that the cable should snap, I can

detach the lead from it and it would shoot to the surface like a

rocket."

"How long can you remain under water in it?"

"A week, if necessary. I have an oxygen tank and a carbon dioxide

removing apparatus which will keep the air in good condition. The globe

is electrically lighted, and can be heated if necessary. Should my

telephone line become fouled and broken, I have a radio set which will

enable me to communicate with you. I can't see that it is especially

dangerous; not nearly as much so as a submarine."

"What is your object in going down, if I may ask?"

"To take pictures and to explore the wreck if we can. The globe is

equipped with huge floodlights and excellent cameras. The salvage people

are having a little trouble and we are trying to help them out."

"You mentioned exploring. Can you leave the globe while it is under

water?"

"Yes. There is a locking device for doing so. A man in a diving suit can

enter the lock and fill it with water. Once the external pressure is

released he can open the outer door and step out. Coming back, he seals

the outer door and the man inside blows out the lock and compressed air

and then the inner door can be opened. It is the same principle as a

torpedo tube."

* * * * *

A jangle of bells interrupted them and the _Minneconsin_ slowed down.

Commander Lawrence stepped to the rail and gave a sharp order to the

navigating officer on the bridge. The bells jangled again and the ship's

engines stopped.

"We are almost over the buoy, Doctor," he said.

Dr. Bird nodded and spoke to the two mechanics. With a few final

touches to the apparatus they emerged from the globe and Dr. Bird

entered.

"Come on, Carnes," he called. "No backing out at the last minute."

Carnes stepped forward with a sickly smile and joined the Doctor in the

huge sphere.

"All right, boys; close her up."

The mechanics swung the outer door into place with a crane. Both the

edge of the door and the surface against which it fitted had been ground

flat and were in addition faced with soft rubber. Bolts were fastened in

the door which passed through holes in the main sphere, and Dr. Bird

spun nuts onto them and tightened them with a heavy wrench. He and

Carnes lifted the smaller inner door into place and bolted it tight. Dr.

Bird stepped to the telephone.

"Lower away," he directed.

From a boom attached to the _Minneconsin's_ forward fighting top, a huge

steel cable swung down, and the latch at the end of the cable was closed

over a vitrilene ring which was fastened to the top of the sphere. The

cable tightened and the globe with the two men in it was lifted over the

side of the battleship and lowered gently into the water. Carnes

involuntarily ducked and threw up his hand as the waters closed over

them. Dr. Bird laughed.

"Look up, Carnes," he said.

Carnes gasped as he looked up and saw the surface of the water above

him. Dr. Bird laughed again and turned to the telephone.

"Lower away," he said. "Everything is tight."

* * * * *

The globe descended into the depths of the sea. Darker and darker it

grew until only a faint twilight glow filled the sphere. A dark bulk

loomed before them. Dr. Bird snapped on one of his huge floodlights and

pointed.

"The _Arethusa_," he said.

The ill-fated vessel lay on her side with a huge jagged hole torn in her

fabric amidships.

"That's where her boilers burst," explained the Doctor. "Luckily we have

a hard bottom to deal with. Let's see if we can locate any of Mitchell's

sea serpents."

He turned on other flood lights and swept the bottom of the sea with

them. The huge beams bored out into the water for a quarter of a mile,

but nothing unusual was to be seen. Dr. Bird turned his attention again

to the wreck.

"Things look normal from this side," he said after a prolonged scrutiny.

"I'll have the _Minneconsin_ steam around it while we look it over."

In response to his telephone orders the ship above them swung around the

wreck in a circle, and Carnes and the Doctor viewed each side in turn.

But nothing of a suspicious nature made its appearance. The sphere

stopped opposite the hole in the side and Dr. Bird turned to Carnes.

"I'm going to put on a diving suit and explore that wreck," he said. "If

there ever was any danger, it isn't apparent now; and I can't find out

anything until I get inside."

"Don't do it, Doctor!" cried Carnes. "Remember what happened to the

other divers!"

* * * * *

"We don't know what happened to them, Carnes. No matter what it was,

there is no danger apparent right now, and I've got to get into that

ship before I can get any real information. We could have lowered an

under-sea camera and learned as much as we have so far."

"Let me go instead of you, Doctor."

"I'm sorry to refuse you, old dear, but frankly, I wouldn't trust your

judgment as to what you had seen if you went alone; and we can't both

go."

"Why not?"

"If we both went, who would work the air to let us back in? No, this is

a one-man job and I'm the one to do it. While I am gone, keep a sharp

lookout, and if you see anything unusual call me at once."

"How can I call you?"

"On this small radio phone. A pair of receivers tuned to the right

wave-length are in my diving helmet, and I will be able to hear you

although I can't reply. I won't be gone long: I have only a small air

tank, large enough to keep me going for thirty minutes. Now help me into

my suit and keep a sharp watch. A timely warning may save my life if

anything happens."

With Carnes' assistance, Dr. Bird donned a deep-sea diving outfit and

screwed down the helmet. He crawled through the inner door into the lock

and lifted the inner door into place. Carnes fastened the door with nuts

and the Doctor opened a pair of valves in the outer door and filled the

lock with water. He removed the outer door; and, taking in one hand a

steel-shod twelve-foot pike with a hook on the end, and in the other a

waterproof flashlight, he sallied forth. As he left the shell he paused

for a moment, and then returned and picked up the heavy wrench with

which he had removed the nuts holding the outer door into place. He

fastened the tool to the belt of his suit. Then, with a wave of his hand

toward the detective, he approached the hulk.

The hole in the side was too high for him to reach, but he hooked the

end of his pike in one of the joints of the _Arethusa's_ plates and

climbed slowly and painfully up the side of the vessel. As he

disappeared into the hull, Carnes realized with a sudden start that he

had been watching his friend and neglecting the duty imposed on him of

keeping a sharp watch. He turned quickly to the floodlights and searched

the sea bottom.

* * * * *

Nothing appeared, and the minutes moved as slowly as hours should.

Carnes felt that he had been submerged alone for weeks, and his nerves

grew so tense that he felt that he would scream in another instant. A

sudden thought sobered him like a dash of cold water. If he screamed,

Dr. Bird would take it for an alarm signal and possibly be afraid to

emerge from the vessel. His watch showed him that the Doctor had been

gone for twenty-five minutes and he moved slowly to the radio

transmitter.

"Dr. Bird," he said slowly and distinctly, "you have been gone nearly

thirty minutes. Nothing alarming has appeared but I will feel better

when I see you coming back."

He glued his eyes on the opening in the ship's side and waited. Five

minutes passed, and then ten, with no signs of the Doctor. Carnes moved

again to the receiver.

"It has been over half an hour. Doctor," he cried in a pleading voice.

"If you are all right, for God's sake show yourself. I am frantic with

worry."

Another five minutes passed, and the sweat dripped in a steady stream

from the detective's chin. Suddenly he gave a sob of relief and sank

back against the side of the globe. A bulky figure showed at the edge of

the hole, and Dr. Bird climbed slowly and heavily out of the hold and

dropped to the sea bottom. He lay prone for a moment before he rose and

made his way with evident effort toward the sphere. He entered the

compartment and with a heroic effort lifted the outer door into place,

and feebly and with fumbling fingers placed nuts on the bolts. His hands

wandered uncertainly toward the valves and closed the upper one. He

waved his hand toward Carnes and sank in a heap on the floor of the

lock.

* * * * *

With trembling hands Carnes connected the air and opened the valve. Air

flowed into the lock and the water was gradually forced out. When the

lock was empty, he waited for Dr. Bird to close the outer valve but the

Doctor did not move. Carnes tore at the bolts which held the inner door

and threw his weight against it. It held against his assault, and he

thought frantically. An inspiration came to him, and he disconnected

the air valve. With a whistling rush, the air from the lock rushed into

the sphere and he forced open the inner door. A stream of sea water

drove against his feet through the open valve, and he reached for the

valve to close it. The force of the water held it open for a moment, but

he threw every ounce of his strength into the effort. The valve slowly

closed.

It was beyond his strength to haul the heavy Doctor with his pressure

diving suit through the restricted confines of the inner door, so Carnes

wormed his way into the lock and with trembling fingers unscrewed the

helmet of the Doctor's diving suit. The helmet clanged to the floor and

Carnes scooped up his hands full of water and dashed it into the

Doctor's face. There was no response and he was at his wit's end. He

sprang for the radio to order the sphere hauled up when his glance fell

on the oxygen tank. It took him only a moment to connect a rubber hose

to the tank, and in a few seconds a blast of the life-giving gas was

blowing into the scientist's face. Dr. Bird gave a convulsive gasp or

two and opened his eyes.

"Shut off the juice, Carnes," he said faintly. "Too much of that's

bad."

Carnes shut off the oxygen and Dr. Bird struggled to a sitting position

and inhaled deep breaths.

"That was a narrow squeak, old dear," he said faintly. "Give me a hand

and I'll climb in."

* * * * *

With the detective's aid he climbed into the sphere and Carnes fastened

the inner door. Slowly the Doctor rid himself of the diving suit and lay

prone on the floor, his breath still coming in gasps.

"Thanks for your warning about the time, Carnes," he said. "I knew that

my air supply was running short but I was caught down there and couldn't

readily free myself. I thought for a while that my time had come, but it

wasn't so written. By the looks of things, I freed myself just in

time."

"Did you find out anything?" asked the detective eagerly.

"I did," replied Dr. Bird grimly. "For one thing, the gold is no longer

in the hold of the _Arethusa_."

"It's gone?"

"Clean as a whistle, every bar of it. A hole has been cut in the vault

around the combination, and the bars slid back and the door opened. The

gold has been stolen."

"Might it not have been stolen before the vessel sank?"

"The idea occurred to me of course, and I examined things pretty

carefully. I know that the theft occurred after the vessel sank."

"How could you tell?"

"For one thing, the hole was cut with an under-water cutting torch. For

the second, look here."

* * * * *

The Doctor rolled up his trousers and showed the detective his leg.

Carnes cried out as he saw huge purple welts on it.

"What caused that?" he cried.

"As I entered the vault, I stepped full into a steel bear trap which was

set there for the purpose of catching and holding anyone who entered.

Someone has visited the _Arethusa_, since she sank, and looted her, and

also arranged so that any diver who got as far as the vault would never

return to the surface to tell of it. Luckily for myself, I carried a

heavy wrench and was able to free myself. Most divers don't carry such a

thing."

"But who could have done it?"

"That's what we have got to find out, and we aren't going to do it down

here. Give the word to have us hauled up; and, Carnes, don't mention

anything about the looting of the vessel. Allow it to be understood that

I couldn't get into the hold. We'll head back for New York at once. I

want to have a few small changes made in this sphere before we use it

again. While I am doing that, I want you to get hold of the Coast Guard

or the Immigration Service or whoever it is that has the complete

records in that case of alien smuggling, by the Young Labor party. When

you get the information, report to me and we'll go over it. You might

also drop a hint to Captain Starley that will stop all further attempts

at salvage operations for a few days. Tell him that I'll arrange to have

a Coast Guard cutter guard the locality of the wreck."

"Won't that be rather risky for the cutter?"

"I think not. The gold is gone and there is no reason to apprehend any

further danger in that locality, at least for the present."

* * * * *

At nine o'clock next morning Carnes and Dr. Bird sat in the office of

Lieutenant Commander Minden of the United States Coast Guard, listening

intently to the history of the alien smuggling case. Commander Minden

was saying:

"Their boats would load up and clear ostensibly for Rio de Janeiro or

some other South American port, but once they were in the Atlantic, they

would alter their course and head from the Massachusetts coast. Of

course, we had no right to interfere with them on the high seas, and

they never came closer than fifty miles of our coast line. When they got

that close, they would cruise slowly back and forth for a few days and

then steam away south to the port they had cleared for. When they got

there, of course there were no passengers on board.

"We patrolled the coast carefully while they were around but we never

got any indication of any landing of aliens and yet we knew they were

being landed in some way. We drew lines so close that a cork couldn't

get by without being seen and we even had the air patrolled, but with no

results. Eventually the air patrol was the thing that gave them away.

"They had been operating so successfully that they evidently got

careless and started a load off late in the night so they didn't reach

the coast by dawn. A Navy plane was flying along the coast-line about

twelve miles off when they spotted a submarine running parallel with the

coast, headed north. It didn't look like an American craft and they went

on and radioed Washington and found that we had no under-sea craft in

that neighborhood. They returned to their patrol and followed the sub

for a matter of thirty or forty miles up the coast, and then it turned

in right toward the shore. The shore line there is rocky, and, at the

point where the sub was heading, it falls sheer about two hundred

fathoms. The sub ran right at the cliff and disappeared from view."

* * * * *

Lieutenant Commander Minden paused impressively. Carnes and Dr. Bird set

forward in their chairs, for it was evident that the crux of the story

was at hand.

"When the plane reported what they had seen, we knew how those aliens

were being landed. The point where the sub went in gave us a good idea

of the location of their base and we threw a cordon of men around and

searched. A Navy sub was sent to the scene and they reported that there

was a tunnel opening into the rock, about a hundred fathoms under water,

running for they had no idea how far under the land. They stayed to

guard the hole while we combed the land. It took us a week to locate the

place, but we traced some truck loads of food and finally found it. This

tunnel ran under the land for a mile and then ended in a large cave

underground. The Young Labor party had established a regular receiving

depot there, and took the aliens from the sub and kept them for a day or

two until they had a chance to load them into trucks and run them into

Boston or some other town in the night.

"Once we had the place spotted, we sent a gang in and captured the whole

works without any trouble. The underground cavern had no natural opening

to the surface, but one had been made by blasting. We captured the

whole lot and then sealed the end of the hole with rock and concrete.

That was the end of the affair."

"Thank you, Commander; you have given us a very graphic description of

it. I suppose you could find the entrance which was sealed up?"

* * * * *

"Easily. I led the raiding party. I forgot to mention one blunder we

made. Evidently some word of our plans leaked out, for the sub which was

guarding the outer end of the tunnel was called away by a radio message

supposed to be from the Navy Department. It had gone only a short

distance, however, when the commander smelled a rat and made his way

back. He was too late. He was just in time to see the sub emerge from

the hole and head into the open sea. He gave chase, but the other sub

was faster than the Navy boat and it got clear away. The leader of the

gang must have been on it, for we didn't get him."

"Who was the leader?"

"From some records we captured, his name was Ivan Saranoff. I never saw

him."

"Saranoff?" said Dr. Bird thoughtfully. "The name seems familiar. Where

have I--Thunder! I know now. He was at one time a member of the faculty

of St. Petersburg. He was one of the leading biologists of his time.

Carnes, we've found our man."

"If you are thinking of Saranoff, I am afraid you are mistaken, Doctor,"

said Commander Minden. "Neither he nor his submarine have ever been

heard of since and it has been generally conceded that they were lost at

sea. We had some pretty rough weather just after that affair."

"Rough weather doesn't mean much to a sub, Commander. I expect that he's

our man. At any rate, the place we want to go is the end of that

tunnel."

"I'm at your service, Doctor."

"Carnes, get the location of that tunnel entrance from Commander Minden

and order the _Minneconsin_ to proceed north along the coast to that

vicinity and stand by for radio orders. I am going to telephone Mitchell

Field and get a plane. We have no time to lose."

* * * * *

The plane from Mitchell Field roared down to a landing, and Carnes, Dr.

Bird and Commander Minden dismounted from the rear cockpit and looked

around. They had landed in a smooth field at the base of a rise almost

rugged enough to be called a mountain. A group of three men were

standing near them as they got out of the plane. One of the men

approached.

"Dr. Bird?" asked the newcomer. "I am Tom Harron, United States Marshal.

These two men are deputies. I understand that I am to report to you for

orders."

"I'm glad to know you, Mr. Harron. This is Operative Carnes of the

Secret Service and Commander Minden of the Coast Guard. We are going to

explore an underground cavern that is located in this vicinity."

"Do you mean the one where they used to smuggle aliens? That is closed

up. I was in charge of that work and we closed it tight as a drum two

years ago."

"Can you find the entrance?"

"Sure. It isn't over a mile from here."

"Lead the way, then. We want to take a look at it."

The marshal led the way toward the eminence and took a path which led up

a gully in its side. He paused for a moment to take his bearings and

then turned sharply to his left and climbed part way up the side of the

ravine.

"Here it is," he announced. An expression of astonishment crossed his

face and he examined the ground closely. "By Golly, Doc," he went on as

he straightened up, "this place has been opened since I left it!"

* * * * *

Dr. Bird hurried forward and joined him. The heavy stone and concrete

with which the entrance to the cavern had been sealed were undisturbed,

but in the side of the hill was set a steel door beside the concrete.

There was no sign of a keyhole or other means of entering it.

"Was this steel door part of your work?" asked Carnes.

"No, sir, it wasn't. We sealed it solid. That door has been put there

since."

Dr. Bird closely examined the structure. He tapped it and went around

the edges and then straightened up and took a small pocket compass from

his pocket and opened the case. The needle swung crazily for a moment

and then pointed straight toward the door.

"A magnetic lock," he exclaimed. "If we could find the power line it

would be easy to force, but finding that line might take us a week. At

any rate, we have found out what we were after. This is their base from

which they are operating. Mr. Harron, I want you to station a guard

armed with rifles at this door day and night until I personally relieve

you. Remember, until I relieve you, in person. Verbal or written orders

don't go. Capture or kill anyone who tries to enter or leave the cavern

through this entrance. Just now we'll find that cavern more vulnerable

from the sea end, and that is where I mean to attack. We'll force that

door and explore from this end later. Commander Minden, you may stay

here with Mr. Harron, if you like, or you may come with Carnes and me.

We are going on board the _Minneconsin_."

* * * * *

The Mitchell Field plane roared to a take-off and bore south along the

coast. Half an hour of flying brought them in view of the battleship

steaming at full speed up the coast. Dr. Bird radioed instructions to

the ship, and an hour later a launch picked them up from the beach and

took them out. As soon as they were on board they resumed their

progress, and in two hours the peak that Dr. Bird had marked as a

landmark was opposite.

"Steam in as close to the shore as you can safely," he said, "and then

lower us. Once we are down, you will be guided by our telephoned

instructions. Come on, Carnes, let's go."

The detective followed him into the sphere as the _Minneconsin_ edged up

toward the shore. The huge ball was lifted from the deck and lowered

gently into two hundred fathoms of water. It was pitch dark at that

depth, and Dr. Bird switched on one floodlight and studied the cliff

which rose a hundred yards from them.

"We have missed the place, Carnes," he said. "We'll have them pull us up

a few hundred feet and then steam along the coast."

He turned to the telephone and the sphere rose while the battleship

steamed slowly ahead, the vitrilene ball following in her wake. For a

quarter of a mile they continued on their way, and then Dr. Bird halted

the ship.

"What depth are we?" he asked. "Eighty fathoms? All right, lower us,

please."

* * * * *

The ball sank until it rested on the sea bottom, and Dr. Bird turned on

two additional floodlights and studied the surroundings. The bed of the

ocean was literally covered with lobster and crab shell, with the bones

of fish scattered here and there among them. A few bones of land animals

were mixed with the debris and Carnes gave a gasp as Dr. Bird pointed

out to him a diving helmet.

"We are on the right track," said the scientist grimly. He stepped to

the telephone and ordered the sphere raised to one hundred fathoms. The

ship moved forward along the coast until Dr. Bird again stepped to the

telephone and halted it. Before them yawned the entrance to the

underground tunnel. It was about two hundred feet high and three hundred

across, and their most powerful beams would not penetrate to the end of

it. A pile of debris could be seen on the floor of the tunnel and

Carnes fancied that he could see another diving helmet among the litter.

Dr. Bird pointed toward the side of the cavern.

"See those floodlights fastened to the cliff so that their beams will

sweep across the mouth of the tunnel when they are lighted?" he said.

"Apparently the cave is used as a prison and the light beams are the

bars. The creature is not at home just now or the bars would be up. My

God! Look at that, Carnes!"

Carnes stared and echoed the Doctor's cry of surprise. Clinging to a

shelf of rock which extended out from the wall of the cavern and half

hidden among the seaweed was a huge marine creature. It looked like a

huge black slug with rudimentary eyes and mouth. The thing was fifty

feet in length and fully fifteen feet in diameter. It hung there, moving

sluggishly as though breathing, and rudimentary tentacles projecting

from one end moved in the water.

"What is it, Doctor?" asked Carnes in a voice of awe.

"It is a typical trochosphere of the giant octopus, the devil fish of

Indian Ocean legend, multiplied a thousand times," he replied. "When the

octopus lays its eggs, they hatch out into the larval form. The free

swimming larva is known as a trochosphere, and I am positive that that

is what we see; but look at the size of the thing! Man alive, if that

ever developed, I can't conceive of its dimensions!"

* * * * *

"I have seen pictures of a huge octopus pulling down a ship," said

Carnes, "but I always fancied they were imaginary."

"They are. This monstrosity before us is no product of nature. A dozen

of them would depopulate the seas in a year. It is a hideous parody of

nature conceived in the brain of a madman and produced by some glandular

disturbance. Saranoff spent years in glandular experimentation, and no

doubt he has managed to stimulate the thyroid of a normal octopus and

produce a giant. I fancy that the immediate parent of the thing before

us was of normal size, and so, probably, are its brothers and sisters.

The phenomenon of giantism of this nature occurs in alternate

generations and then only in rare instances. Its grandparent may not be

far away, however. I wish it was safe to use a submarine to explore that

cavern."

"Why isn't it?"

"Any creature powerful enough to pull the _Arethusa_ under water would

crush a frail submarine without effort. Anyway, a Navy sub isn't built

for under-water exploration like this ball is. The window space is quite

limited and they aren't equipped with powerful floodlights. I would like

to be able to reach that thing and destroy it, but it can wait until

later. The best thing we can do is to put out our lights and wait."

His hand sought the light switch, and the globe became dark. Only a tiny

glimmer of light came down to them from the surface, a hundred fathoms

above. In the darkness they stared into the depths of the sea.

* * * * *

For an hour they waited and then Dr. Bird grasped Carnes by the

shoulder and pointed. Far in the distance could be seen a tiny point

of light. It wavered and winked and at times disappeared, but it was

gradually approaching them. Dr. Bird stepped to the telephone and the

_Minneconsin_ moved a hundred yards further from the shore. The light

disappeared again as though hidden by some opaque body. Their eyes

had become accustomed to the dim light and they could dimly see a long

snake-like body approach the globe and then suddenly withdraw.

The light appeared again only a few hundred yards away. The water

swirled and the sphere swayed drunkenly as some gigantic body moved past

it with express train speed and entered the mouth of the cavern. The

light turned toward them and they could see the dim outlines of a small

submarine on which it was mounted. Another rush of water came as the

object which had entered the cave started to leave it, and the light

swung around. It bore on a huge black body, and was reflected with a red

glow from huge eyes, and the creature backed again into the cave. Back

and forth across the mouth of the cavern the light played, and the

watchers caught a glimpse of a huge parrot beak which could have

engulfed a freight car. From the cavern projected twisting tentacles of

gargantuan dimensions, and red eyes, thirty feet in diameter, glared

balefully at them. For several minutes the light of the submarine played

across the mouth of the cave, and then the floodlights on the cliff

sprang into full glow and bathed the ball and the mouth of the tunnel in

a flood of light.

Before their horrified gaze was an octopus of a size to make them

disbelieve their eyes. The submarine had moved up to within a few feet

of them, and the light from it played full on the ball. The submarine

maneuvered in the vicinity, keeping the ball full in the beam of its

light, and then drew back. As it did so, the floodlights on the cliff

died out and the beam of the submarine's light was directed away from

them. Dr. Bird jumped to the telephone.

"Head straight out to sea and full speed ahead!" he shouted. "Don't try

to pull us in; tow us!"

* * * * *

The ball swayed as the _Minneconsin's_ mighty engines responded to his

orders and the cliff wall disappeared.

"As long as they know we're here, we might as well announce our presence

in good style," said the doctor grimly as he closed a switch and threw

all of the sphere's huge lights into action. He had turned on the lights

just in time, for even as he did so a mighty tentacle shot out of the

darkness and wrapped itself around the ball. For a moment it clung there

and then was withdrawn.

"The thing can't stand light," remarked the doctor as he threw off the

switch. "That sub was herding it like a cow by the use of a light beam.

As long as we are lighted up we are safe from attack."

"Then for God's sake turn on the lights!" cried Carnes.

"I want it to attack us," replied the doctor calmly. "We have no

offensive weapons and only by meeting an attack can we harm the thing."

As he spoke there came a soft whisper of sound from the vitrilene walls

and they were thrown from their feet by a sudden jerk. Dr. Bird stumbled

to the switch and closed it, and the ball was flooded with light. Two

arms were now on them but they were slowly withdrawn as the lights

glared forth. The huge outlines of the beast could be seen as it

followed them toward the surface. Its great eyes glared at them

hungrily. The submarine was visible only as a speck of light in the

distance.

* * * * *

The _Minneconsin's_ speed was picking up under the urge of her huge

steam turbines, and the ball was nearing the surface. The sea was light

enough now that they could see for quite a distance. The telephone bell

jangled and Dr. Bird picked the receiver from its hook.

"Hello," he said. "What's that? You can? By all means, fire. Yes,

indeed, we're well out of danger; we must be thirty or forty feet down.

Watch the fun now," he went on to Carnes as he replaced the receiver.

"The beast is showing above the surface and they're going to shell it."

They watched the surface and suddenly there came a flash of light

followed by a dull boom of sound. The huge octopus suddenly sank below

them, thrashing its arms about wildly.

"A hit!" shouted Dr. Bird into the telephone. "Get it again if it shows

up. I want it to get good and mad."

He turned off the lights in the ball and the octopus attacked again. The

shell had taught it caution and it kept well down, but three huge arms

came up from the depths of the sea and wrapped themselves about the

ball. The forward motion stopped for a moment, and then came a jerk that

threw them down. The ball started to sink.

"Our cable has parted!" cried the doctor. "Turn on the lights!"

* * * * *

Carnes closed the switch. The ball was so covered with the huge

tentacles that they could see nothing, but the light had its usual

effect and they were released. The ball sank toward the bottom and they

could see the huge cephalopod lying below watching them. Blood was

flowing from a wound near one of its eyes where the _Minneconsin's_

shell had found its mark.

Toward the huge monster they sank until they lay on the bottom of the

ocean and a few yards from it. In an instant the sea became opaque and

they could see nothing.

"He has shot his ink!" cried the doctor. "Here comes the real attack.

Strap yourself to the wall where you can reach one of the motor

switches."

Through the darkness huge arms came out and wrapped themselves around

the ball. The heavy vitrilene groaned under the enormous pressure which

was applied, but it held. The ink was clearing slightly and they could

see that the sphere was covered by the arms. The mass moved and the huge

maw opened before them. The pipes projecting from the sides of the ball

were buried in the creature's flesh.

"Good Lord, he's going to swallow us!" gasped the doctor. "Quick,

Carnes, the motor switch."

He closed one of them as he spoke, and the powerful little electric

motors began to hum, forcing forward the piston attached to the tank

connected to the hollow rods. Steadily the little motors hummed, and the

tank emptied through the rods into the body of the giant cephalopod.

"I hope the stuff works fast," groaned the doctor as they approached

closer to the giant maw. "I never tried giving an octopus a hypodermic

injection of prussic acid before, but it ought to do the business.

There's enough acid there to kill half New York City."

* * * * *

Carnes blanched as the ball approached the mouth. One by one the arms

unwound until only one was holding them and the jaws opened wider. They

were almost in them when the motion stopped. They could feel a shudder

run through the arm which held them. For a moment the arm alternately

expanded and contracted, almost releasing them only to clutch them

again. Another arm came from the depths and whipped about the ball, and

again the vitrilene groaned at the pressure which was applied. The arms

were suddenly withdrawn and the ball started to sink.

"Drop the lead, Carnes!" cried the doctor. With the aid of the detective

he operated the electric catches which held the huge mass of lead to the

bottom, and the sphere shot up through the water like a rocket. It

leaped clear of the water and fell back with a splash. A half mile away

the _Minneconsin_ was swinging in a wide circle to head back toward

them. They turned their gaze toward the shore.

As they looked a giant arm shot a hundred yards up into the air,

twisting and writhing frantically. It disappeared, and another, and then

half a dozen flashed into the air. The arms dipped below the surface. A

huge black body reared its bulk free from the water for a moment, and

the sea boiled as though in a violent storm. The body sank and again the

arms were thrown up, twisting and turning like a half dozen huge snakes.

The whole creature sank below the waves and the ball tossed back and

forth, often buried under tons of water and once tossed thirty feet into

the air by the huge waves.

* * * * *

A momentary lull came in the waves. Carnes gave a cry of astonishment

and pointed toward the shore. With an effort, Dr. Bird twisted himself

in his lashing and looked in that direction. The huge body had again

come to the surface, and three of the arms were towering into the air.

Grasped in them was a long, black, cigar-shaped object. As they watched

the object was torn into two parts and the fragments crushed by the

enormous power of the octopus. Again the arms writhed in torment, and

then they stiffened out. For a moment they towered in the air and then

slowly sank below the surface of the sea.

"The cyanide has worked," cried the doctor, "and in its last agonies the

creature has turned on its creator and destroyed him. It is a shame, for

Saranoff was a brilliant although perverted genius, and besides, I would

have liked to have learned his method. However, I may find something

when we open the land end and raid the cave; and really, he was too

brilliant a man to hang for murder. Once we open the cave and I get any

data that is there, my connection with the case will end. Trailing down

the gold and recovering it is a routine matter for Bolton, and one in

which he won't need my help."

"What about that creature we saw in the cave, Doctor? Won't it hatch

into another terror of the sea like the thing that destroyed the ship?"

"The trochosphere? No, I'm not worried there. It won't try to leave the

cave for some days yet, and by that time we'll have the land end opened

and the floodlights turned on. They will keep it there and it will

starve to death. We could send down a sub to feed it a torpedo, but

there's no need. Nature will dispose of it. Meanwhile, I hope the

_Minneconsin_ rigs up a jury tackle pretty soon and takes us on board.

I'm getting seasick."

* * * * *

_IN THE NEXT ISSUE_

THE FIFTH-DIMENSION CATAPULT

_A Novelette of an Extraordinary Interdimensional Rescue_

_By_ Murray Leinster

THE GATE TO XORAN

_A Thrilling Story of a Metal Man's Visit to Earth_

_By_ Hal K. Wells

THE EYE OF ALLAH

_A Story of the Tracking Down of a Mysterious Scientific Killer_

_By_ C. D. Willard

THE PIRATE PLANET

_Part Three of the Outstanding Current Novel_

_By_ Charles W. Diffin

----_AND OTHERS_!

* * * * *

Gray Denim

_By Harl Vincent_

The blood of the Van Dorn's ran in Karl's veins. He rode the skies

like an avenging god.

[Illustration: _There came a stabbing pencil of light from over Karl's

shoulder._]

Beneath the huge central arch in Cooper Square a meeting was in

progress--a gathering of the gray-clad workers of the lower levels of

New York. Less than two hundred of their number were in evidence, and

these huddled in dejected groups around the pedestal from which a

fiery-tongued orator was addressing them. Lounging negligently at the

edge of the small crowd were a dozen of the red police.

"I tell you, comrades," the speaker was shouting, "the time has come

when we must revolt. We must battle to the death with the wearers of the

purple. Why work out our lives down here so they can live in the lap of

luxury over our heads? Why labor day after day at the oxygen generators

to give them the fresh air they breathe?"

The speaker paused uncertainly as a chorus of raucous laughter came to

his ears. He glared belligerently at a group of newcomers who stood

aloof from his own gathering. Seven or eight of them there were, and

they wore the gray with obvious discomfort. Slummers! Well, they'd hear

something they could carry back with them when they returned to their

homes!

"Why," he continued in rising tones, "do we sit at the controls of the

pneumatic tubes which carry thousands of our fellows to tasks equally

irksome, while they of the purple ride their air yachts to the pleasure

cities of the sky lanes? Never in the history of mankind have the poor

been poorer and the rich richer!"

"Yah!" shouted a disrespectful voice from among the newcomers. "You're

full o' bunk! Nothing but bunk!"

An ominous murmur swelled from the crowd and the red police roused from

their lethargy. The mounting scream of a siren echoed in the vaulted

recesses above and re-echoed from the surrounding columns--the call for

reserves.

* * * * *

All was confusion in the Square. The little group of newcomers

immediately became the center of a melee of dangerous proportions. Some

of the more timid of the wearers of the gray struggled to get out of the

crowd and away. Others, not in sympathy with the speaker, rushed to the

support of the besieged visitors. The police were, for the moment,

overwhelmed.

The orator, mad with resentment and injured pride, hurled himself into

the group. A knife flashed in his hand; rose and fell. A scream of agony

shrilled piercingly above the din of the fighting.

Then came the reserves, and the wielder of the knife turned to escape.

He broke away from the milling combatants and made speedily for the

shadows that lay beyond the great pillars of the Square. But he never

reached them, for one of the red guards raised his riot pistol and

fired. There was a dull _plop_, and a rubbery something struck the

fleeing man and wrapped powerful tentacles around his body, binding him

hand and foot in their swift embrace. He fell crashing to the pavement.

A lieutenant of the red police was shouting his orders and the din in

the Square was deafening. With their numbers greatly augmented, the

guards were now in control of the situation and their maces struck left

and right. Groans and curses came from the gray-clad workers, who now

fought desperately to escape.

Then, with startling suddenness, the artificial sunlight of the

cavernous Square was gone, leaving the battle to continue in utter

darkness.

* * * * *

Cooper Square, in the year 2108, was the one gathering place in New York

City where the wearers of the gray denim were permitted to assemble and

discuss their grievances publicly. Deep in the maze of lower-level ways

seldom visited by wearers of the purple, the grottolike enclosure bore

the name of a philanthropist of the late nineteenth century and still

carried a musty air of certain of the traditions of that period.

In Astor Way, on the lowest level of all, there was a tiny book shop.

Nestled between two of the great columns that provided foundation

support for the eighty levels above, it was safely hidden from the gaze

of curious passersby in the Square. Slumming parties from afar, their

purple temporarily discarded for the gray, occasionally passed within a

stone's throw of the little shop, never suspecting the existence of such

a retreat amidst the dark shadows of the pillars. But to the initiated

few amongst the wearers of the gray, and to certain of the red police,

it was well known.

Rudolph Krassin, proprietor of the establishment, was a bent and

withered ancient. His jacket of gray denim hung loosely from his

spare frame and his hollow cough bespoke a deep-seated ailment.

Looking out from behind thick lenses set in his square-rimmed

spectacles, the watery eyes seemed vacant; uncomprehending. But old

Rudolph was a scholar--keen-witted--and a gentleman besides. To his

many friends of the gray-clad multitude he was an anomaly; they

could not understand his devotion to his well-thumbed volumes. But they

listened to his words of wisdom and, more frequently than they could

afford, parted with precious labor tickets in exchange for reading

matter that was usually of the lighter variety.

* * * * *

When the fighting started in the Square, Rudolph was watching and

listening from a point of vantage in the shadows near his shop. This

fellow Leontardo, who was the speaker, was an agitator of the worst

sort. His arguments always were calculated to arouse the passions of his

hearers; to inflame them against the wearers of the purple. He had

nothing constructive to offer. Always he spoke of destruction; war;

bloodshed. Rudolph marveled at the patience of the red police. To-day,

these newcomers, obviously a slumming party of youngsters bent on

whatever mischief they could find, were interfering with the speaker.

The old man chuckled at the first interruption. But at signs of real

trouble he scurried into the shadows and vanished in the blackness of

first-level passages known only to himself. He knew where to find the

automatic sub-station of the Power Syndicate.

Returning to the darkness he had created in the Square, he was relieved

to find that the sounds of the fighting had subsided. Apparently most of

the wearers of the gray had escaped. He skirted the avenue of pillars

along Astor Way, feeling his way from one to another as he progressed

toward his little shop. Peering into the blackness of the square he saw

the feeble beams of several flash-lamps in the hands of the police. They

were searching for survivors of the fracas, maces and riot pistols held

ready for use. A sobbing gasp from close by set his pulses throbbing. He

crept stealthily in the direction from which the sound had come.

"Steady now," came a whispered voice. "My uncle's shop is close by.

He'll take you in. Here--let me lift you."

* * * * *

There was a shuffling on the opposite side of the pillar at which

Rudolph had halted; another grunt of pain.

"Karl!" hissed the old man. It was his nephew.

"Uncle Rudolph?" came the guarded response.

"Yes. Can I help you?"

"Quick--yes--he's fainted."

The old man was around the huge base of the column in an instant. He

groped in the darkness and his hands encountered human bodies.

"Who is it?" he breathed.

"One of the hecklers, Uncle. A young lad; and of the purple I think.

He's been knifed."

Together they dragged the inert form into the shelter of the long line

of pillars. There was a trampling of many men in the square. That would

be a second detachment of reserves. A ray of light filtered through and

dancing shadows of the giant columns made grotesque outlines against the

walls of the Way. A portable searchlight had been brought to the scene.

They must hurry.

Impeded by the dead weight of their burden, they made sorry progress and

several times found it necessary to halt in the shadow of a pillar while

the red police passed by in their search of the Square. It was with a

sigh of relief that Rudolph opened the door of his shop and with still

greater satisfaction closed and bolted it securely. His nephew

shouldered the limp form of the unconscious youth and carried it to his

own bed in one of the rear rooms.

"Ugh!" exclaimed old Rudolph as he ripped open the young man's shirt,

"it's a nasty cut. Warm water, Karl."

The gaping wound was washed and bound tightly. Rudolph's experienced

fingers told him the knife had not reached a vital spot. The youth would

recover.

"But Karl," he objected, "he wears the purple. Under the gray. See!

It'll get us in trouble if we keep him."

He was stripping the young man of his clothing to prepare him for bed.

Suddenly there was revealed on the white skin a triangular mark. Bright

scarlet it was and just over the right hip. He made a hasty attempt to

hide it from the watching eyes of Karl.

"Uncle!" snapped his nephew, "--the mark you call cursed! He has it,

too!"

* * * * *

The tall young man in gray was on his knees, tearing the hands of the

old man away. He saw the mark clearly now. There was no further use of

attempting to conceal it. Rudolph rose and faced his angered nephew, his

watery eyes inscrutable.

"You told me, Rudolph, that it was a brand that cursed me. I have seen

it on him, too. You have lied to me."

The old man's eyes wavered. He trembled violently.

"Why did you lie?" demanded Karl. "Am I not your nephew? Am I not really

cursed as you've maintained? Tell me--tell me!"

He had the old man by the shoulders, shaking him cruelly.

"Karl--Karl," begged the helpless ancient, "it was for your good. I

swear it. You were born to the purple. That's what that mark means--not

that you're degraded to the gray, as I said. But there's a reason. Let

me explain."

"Bah! A reason! You've kept me in this misery and squalor for a reason!

Who's my father?"

He flung Rudolph to the floor, where the old man crouched in apprehensive

misery.

"Please Karl--don't! I can explain. Just give me time. It's a long

story."

"Time! Time! For twenty-odd years you've lied to me; cheated me. My

birthright--where is it?"

He menaced his supposed uncle; was about to strike him. Then suddenly he

was ashamed. He turned on his heel.

"I'm leaving," he said shortly.

"Karl--my boy," begged Rudolph Krassin, struggling to his feet. "You

can't! That lad in there--he--"

But Karl was too angry to reason.

"To hell with him!" he raged, "and to hell with you! I'm through!"

He stamped from the room and out into the eery shadows of the Way. Karl

was done with his old life. He'd go to the upper levels and claim his

rights. Some day, too, he'd punish the man who'd stolen them away. God!

Born to the purple! To think he'd missed it all! Probably was kidnaped

by the old rascal he'd been calling uncle. But he'd find out. Rudolph

didn't have to explain. Fingerprint records would clear his name;

establish his rightful station in life. He dived into a passage that

would lead him to one of the express lifts. He'd soon be overhead.

* * * * *

A sergeant of the red police looked up startled from his desk as a tall

youth in the gray denim of forty levels below appeared before him.

"Well?" he growled. The stalwart young worker had stared belligerently

and insolently, he thought.

"I want to check my fingerprint record, Sergeant."

"Hm. Pretty cocky, aren't you? The records for such as you are down

below, where you belong."

"Not mine, I think."

"So? And who the devil are you?"

"That's what I'm here to find out. I've got a triangle branded on my

right hip."

"A what?"

"Triangle. Here--look!"

The amazing youngster had raised his jacket and was pulling at his

shirt. The sergeant stared at what was revealed, his eyes bulging as he

looked.

"Lord!" he gasped, "a Van Dorn--in the gray!"

Quickly he turned to the radiovision and made rapid connection with

several persons in turn--important ones, by the appearance of the

features of each in the brilliant disc of the instrument.

Karl was confused by the sudden turn of things. The sergeant talked so

rapidly he could not catch the sense of his words. And that name, Van

Dorn, eluded him. He knew he had heard it before, in the little shop

down there in Astor Way. But he could not place it. He wished fervently

that he had paid more attention to the desires of old Rudolph; had

studied more and read the books the old man had begged him to read. His

new surroundings confused him, too, and he knew that he was the center

of some great new excitement.

* * * * *

Then they were in the room; two individuals, one in the red uniform of a

captain of police, the other a pompous, whiskered man in purple. Others

followed and it seemed to Karl that the room was filled with them,

strangers all, and they stared at him and chattered incessantly. He

experienced an overwhelming impulse to run, but mastered it and faced

them boldly.

A square of plate glass was placed under his outstretched fingers. It

was smeared with something sticky and he watched the whiskered man as he

held it up to the light and studied the impressions. Then there was more

confusion. Everyone talked at once and the pompous one in purple made

use of the radiovision, holding the square of glass near its disc for

observation by the person he had called. The identification number was

repeated aloud, a string of figures and letters that were a meaningless

jumble to Karl. The room became quiet while the police captain thumbed

the pages of a huge book he had taken from among many similar ones that

filled a rack behind the desk.

Karl's blood froze in his veins at the rumbling swish of a car speeding

through the pneumatic tube beneath their feet. His nerves were on edge.

Then the captain of police looked up from the book and there was a

peculiar glint in his eyes as he spoke.

"Peter Van Dorn. Missing since 2085. Wanted by Continental Government.

Ha!"

The words came to Karl's ears through a growing sensation of unreality.

It seemed that the speaker was miles away and that his voice and

features were those of a radiovision likeness. Wanted by the great power

across the Atlantic! It was unthinkable. Why, he had been but an infant

in 2085! What possible crime could he have committed? But the red police

captain was speaking again, this time in a chill voice. And the room of

the police, thick with the smoke of a dozen cigars, became suddenly

stifling.

"Where have you been these twenty-three years, Peter Van Dorn?" asked

the captain. "Who have you lived with, I mean?"

* * * * *

Something warned him to protect old Rudolph. And somehow he wished

he had not treated the old fellow as he did when he left. His

self-possession returned. A wave of hot resentment swept over him.

"That's my affair," he said defiantly.

The captain shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, well," he said, "you needn't

answer--now. We'll find out when it's necessary. In the meanwhile we'll

have to turn you over to the Continental Ambassador."

Two of the red police advanced toward him and the rest drew back.

"You mean I'm under arrest?" asked Karl incredulously.

"Certainly. Of course you're not to be harmed."

One of the guards had him by the arm and he saw the glint of handcuffs.

They couldn't do this! If it had been for rioting in the Square it

would be different. But this! It meant he was a prisoner of a foreign

government, for what reason he could not guess. He lost his head

completely.

The captain cried out in amazement as one of his huskiest guards went

sprawling under a well-planted punch. This youngster must be as crazy as

was his father before him. But he was a whirlwind. Before he could be

stopped he had tackled the other guard and with a mighty heave flung him

halfway across the room where he fell with a thud that left him dazed

and gasping. The pompous little man in the purple crawled under the desk

as the sergeant leveled a slender tube at the young giant in gray.

Karl ducked instinctively at sight of the weapon, but the spiteful

crackle of its mechanism was too quick for him. A faintly luminous ray

struck him full in the breast and stopped him in his tracks. A thrill of

intense cold chased up his spine and a thunderbolt crashed in his brain.

The captain caught his stiffened body as he fell.

* * * * *

Karl--refusing to think of himself as Peter Van Dorn--came to his senses

as from a troubled sleep. His head ached miserably and he turned it

slowly to view his surroundings. Then, in a flash, he remembered. The

paralyzing ray of the red police! They never used it in the lower

levels; but overhead--why, the swine! He sat suddenly erect and glared

into a pair of green eyes that regarded him curiously.

A quick glance showed him that he was in a small padded compartment like

that of the pneumatic tube cars. At one end there was an amazing array

of machinery with glittering levers and handwheels--a control board on

which numberless tiny lights blinked and flickered in rapid succession.

At these controls squatted the twisted figure of a dwarf. A second of

the creatures sat at his side and stared with those horrible green

eyes.

"Lord!" he muttered. "Am I still asleep?"

"No," smiled the dwarf, "you're awake, Peter Van Dorn." The misshapen

creature did not seem unfriendly.

"Then where am I, and who are you?"

"You're in one of the Zar's rocket cars, speeding toward Dorn. We are

but two of the Zar's servants--Moon men."

"Rocket car? Moon men?" Karl was aghast. He wanted to pinch himself. But

a hollow roar to the rear told him he was in a rapidly moving vessel of

some sort. Certainly, too, these dwarfs were not figments of his

imagination.

"You've been kept completely ignorant?" asked the dwarf.

"It--it seems so." Karl was bewildered. "You mean we are out in the

open--traveling in space--to the Moon perhaps?"

* * * * *

The dwarf laughed. "No, I wish we were," he replied. "But we are about

halfway to the capital of the Continental Empire, greatest of world

powers. We'll be there in an hour."

"But I don't understand."

"Stupid. Didn't you ever hear of the rocket ships that cross the ocean

like a projectile, mounting a thousand miles from the surface and making

the trip in two hours?"

"No!" Karl was aghast. "Are we really in such a contraption?" he

faltered.

"Say! Are you kidding me?" The dwarf was incredulous. "Do you mean to

tell me you know so little of your world as that? Have you never read

anything? The news broadcasts, the thought exchangers--don't you follow

them at all?"

Karl shook his head in growing wonder. Truly Rudolph had kept him in

ignorance. Or was it his own fault? He had refused to dig into the

volumes old Krassin had begged him to read. The broadcasts and the

thought machines--well, only those of the purple had access to those.

"Hey, Laro!" called the dwarf to his companion, "this mole is as dumb as

can be. Doesn't know he's alive hardly. And a Van Dorn!"

The two laughed uproariously and Karl raged inwardly. Mole! So that's

what they called wearers of the gray! He clenched his fists and rose

unsteadily to his feet.

"Sorry," apologized his tormentor. "Mustn't get sore now. It seems so

funny to us though. And listen, kid, you'll never have another chance to

hear it all. So, if you'll sit down and calm yourself a bit I'll give

you an earful."

* * * * *

Mollified, Karl listened. A marvelous tale it was, of a disgruntled

scientist of the Eastern Hemisphere who had conquered that portion of

the world with the aid of the inhabitants he had found on the outer side

of the Moon; of the scientist who still ruled the East--Zar of the

Continental Empire. A horrible war--in 2085, the year of his own

birth--depopulated the countries of Asia, Europe and Africa and reduced

them to subjection. There was no combatting the destructive rays and

chemical warfare of the Moon men. The United Americas, still weakened

from a civil war of their own, remained aloof and, for some strange

reason, the Zar left them in peace, contenting himself with his conquest

of practically all of the rest of the world. Now, it seemed, the two

major powers were as separate as if on different planets, there being no

traffic between them save by governmental sanction; and that was rarely

given.

It grew uncomfortably warm in the compartment as the rocket car entered

the lower atmosphere but Karl listened spellbound to the astounding

revelations of the Moon man. There came a pause in the discourse of the

dwarf as a number of relays clicked furiously on the control board and

the vessel slackened its speed perceptibly.

"But," said Karl, thinking aloud rather than meaning to interrupt,

"what has all this to do with me? Why does the government of this Zar

want me?"

The dwarf bent close and eyed him cautiously. "Poor kid!" he whispered,

"it doesn't seem right that you should suffer for something that

happened when you were born; something you know nothing about. But the

Zar knows best. You--"

There came a stabbing pencil of light from over Karl's shoulder and the

green eyes of the dwarf went wide with horrified surprise. He clutched

at his breast where the flame had contacted, then slowly collapsed in a

pitiful, distorted heap. Karl recoiled from the odor of putrefaction

that immediately filled the compartment. He whirled to face the new

danger but saw nothing but the padded walls.

Then they were in darkness save for the blinking lights of the control

board. He was thrown forward violently and the piercing screech of

compressed air rushing past the vessel told him they had entered the

receiving tube at their destination and were being retarded in speed for

the landing. This much he had gathered from the explanations of the now

silenced dwarf.

Laro, the other Moon man, remained mute at the controls. His companion

evidently had talked too much.

* * * * *

The vessel had stopped and a section of the padded rear wall of the

compartment moved back to reveal a second chamber. There were three

other occupants of the ship and Karl knew now at whose hands the

talkative Moon man had met his death. One of the three--all wearers of

the purple--still held the generator of the dazzling ray in his hands.

He decided wisely that resistance was useless and followed meekly when

he was led from the ship.

Endlessly they rode upward in a high-speed lift, dismounting finally at

a pneumatic tube entrance. A special car whisked them roaring into the

blackness. Then they were shot forth into the open and Karl saw the

light of the sun for the first time in many years. They were on the

upper surface of a great city, Dorn, the capital of the Continental

Empire.

The air was filled with darting ships of all sorts and sizes, most of

them being pleasure craft of the wearers of the purple. To Karl it was

the sudden realization of his dreams. He was one of them. He, too,

should be wearing the purple. Then his heart sank as one of his guards

prodded him into action. His dream already was shattered for they stood

at the entrance to a great crystal pyramid that rose from the flat

expanse of the roofs of Dorn. It was the palace of the Zar.

It seemed then that fairyland had opened its gates to the young man in

gray denim. He immediately fell under its influence when they traversed

a long lane between rows of brightly colored growing things which filled

the air with sweet odors. Feathered creatures fluttered about and

twittered and caroled in the sheer joy of being alive. It was sweeter

music than he had ever believed possible or even imagined as existing.

Again he forgot the menace of the imperial edict which had brought him

from the other side of the world.

* * * * *

Then rudely, he was brought back to earth. He was in the presence of the

mighty Zar and his three escorts were bowing themselves from the huge

room in which the wizened monarch sat enthroned. They had finished their

duties.

A shriveled face; beady eyes; trembling hands with abnormally large

knuckles; a cruel and determined mouth--these were the features that

most impressed Karl as he stared wordlessly at this Zar of the Eastern

Hemisphere. The magnificence of the royal robe was lost on the young

wearer of the gray.

"Well, well, so this is Peter Van Dorn, my beloved nephew." The Zar was

speaking and the chilly sarcasm in which the words were uttered belied

the friendliness they otherwise might have implied.

"That's what I'm told," replied Karl, "though I didn't know I'm supposed

to be the nephew of so great a figure as yourself."

Not bad that, for an humble wearer of the gray.

"Oh, yes, yes, indeed. Why else should I have sent for you?"

"I have wondered why--and still wonder."

"Oh, you wonder, eh?" The Zar inspected him carefully and then broke

into a cackle of horrible laughter. "A Van Dorn in gray denim!" he

chortled. "A mole of the Americas! And to think that even the Zar has

been unable to find him in all these years!"

"Stop!" bellowed Karl. "I'll not have your ridicule. Come to the point

now and have it over with. Kill me if you will, but tell me the story!"

He had seen the slender tube in the Zar's hand.

* * * * *

An expression of surprise, almost of admiration, flickered in the beady

eyes of the Zar and was gone. He spoke coldly.

"Very well, I shall explain. You, Peter, are actually my nephew. Your

father, Derek Van Dorn, was my brother; he a king of Belravia and I a

poor but experienced scientist. He scorned me and he paid, for I learned

of the ancient race of the other side of the Moon, the side we can not

see from the earth. I went to them and enlisted their aid in warring

upon my brother. When we returned to carry on this war I learned that I

had a son. So, too, did Derek. But my son was born in obscurity and

Derek's son--you, Peter--in the lap of luxury. The war was short and, to

me, sweet. Belravia was first to fall, and I had your father removed

from this life by the vibrating death."

"You monster!" cried Karl. But the slender rod menaced him.

"A moment, my hot-headed nephew. I vowed I'd have your life, Peter, but

your father had a few friends and one of these spirited you away. So

temporarily you escaped. But now I have you where I can keep that vow.

You, too, shall die. By the vibration. But first--ha! ha!--I'll give you

a taste of the purple. Just so the going will be harder."

Karl kept his temper as best he could. He thought, conscience-stricken,

of old Rudolph, that good friend of his father. Then he thought of that

youth he had taken from the Square.

"Your son?" he asked gently. "Has he the triangular brand?"

The Zar was taken aback. "He has, yes. Why?" he asked.

"I have seen him in the Americas. He now lies wounded and in peril of

his life. What do you think of that?"

Karl was triumphant as the Zar paled.

"You lie, Peter Van Dorn!"

* * * * *

But the beady eyes saw that the young man was truthful. Sudden fury

assailed the monarch of the East. A bell pealed its mellow summons and

three Moon men entered the Presence.

"Quick, Taru--the radiovision! Our ambassador in the Americas!" The Zar

was on his feet, his hard features terrible in fear and anger. "By God!"

he vowed, "I'll lay waste the Americas if harm has come to my son. And

you"--turning to Karl--"I'll reserve for you an even more terrible fate

than the vibrating death!"

The radiovision was wheeled in and in operation. A frightened face

appeared in its disc: the Zar's ambassador across the sea.

"Moreau--my son!" snapped the Zar. "Where is he?"

"Majesty! Have mercy!" gasped Moreau. "Paul has eluded us. He was

skylarking--in the lower levels of New York. But our secret agents are

combing the passages. We'll have him in twenty-four hours. I promise!"

The rage of the Zar was terrible to see. Karl expected momentarily that

the white flame would lay him low, for the anger of the mad ruler was

directed first at Moreau, then at himself. But a quick, evil calm

succeeded the storm.

"You, Peter," he stated, in tones suddenly silky, "shall have that

twenty-four hours--no more. If Moreau has not produced my son in that

time you shall be dismembered slowly. A finger; an ear; your tongue; a

hand--until you reveal the whereabouts of the heir to my throne!"

"Never! You scum!" Karl was on the dais in a single bound. He had the

Zar by the throat, his fingers twisting in the flabby flesh. Might as

well have it over at once. "Fratricide--murderer of my father, I'll take

you with me!"

* * * * *

But it was not to be. The throne room was filled with retainers of the

mad emperor. Strong hands tore him away and he was borne, struggling and

fighting, to the floor. A sharp pain in his forearm. A deadening of the

muscles. He was powerless, save for the painful ability to crawl to his

knees, swaying drunkenly. A delicious languor overcame him. Nothing

mattered now. He saw that a tall man in the purple had withdrawn the

needle of the hypodermic and was replacing the instrument in its case.

Ever so slowly, it seemed.

The Zar was laughing. That horrible cackle. But Karl didn't care. They'd

have their sport with him. Let 'em! Then it'd be over. Lord! If only he

had been a little quicker. He'd have torn the old Zar's windpipe from

its place!

"My word," laughed the Zar. "The sacred word of a Van Dorn. I gave it.

He'll wear the purple for a day. Take him from my sight!"

Karl was walking, quite willingly now. The effects of the drug were

altering. His muscular strength returned but his mental state underwent

a complete change. Always he'd wanted a taste of the purple. For years

he'd listened to the orators of the Square, to the conflicting

statements of old Krassin. But now he'd see. He'd know the joys of the

upper levels; the pleasure cities, perhaps. For one day. But what did it

matter? He found himself laughing and joking with his companion, a

heavy-set wearer of the purple. They were in a luxurious apartment.

Servants! Moon men all of them, but so efficient. They stripped him of

his gray denim; discarded it contemptuously. Karl kicked the heap into a

corner and laughed delightedly. His bath was waiting.

* * * * *

Much can happen in a day. Clothed in the purple, Karl--Peter Van Dorn,

he was, now--expanded. Turgid emotions surged through his new being. He

was a new man. In his rightful place. He was delighted with the

companionship of his new friend of the purple, Leon Lemaire. An

euphonious name! A fine fellow! Fool that the Zar must be, to leave him

in the care of so amiable a man. Why, Leon couldn't hold him! None of

them could. He'd escape them all--if he wished. Twenty-four hours,

indeed!

They were in the midst of a gay company. Wine flowed freely, and Leon

had attached to their party a pair of beautiful damsels, young, and easy

to know. There was music and dancing. Lights of marvelous color played

over the assemblage in the huge hall, swaying their senses at the will

of some expert manipulator. Peter was a different person now. He was

exhilarated to the point of intoxication, but not by the wine. Somehow

he couldn't bear the taste of the amber fluid the others were imbibing

with such gusto. The effects of the drug had left a coppery taste in his

mouth. But no matter! Rhoda, his lovely companion at the table leaned

close. Her breath was hot at his throat. He swept her into his arms.

Leon and the other girl laughed approvingly.

There were many such places in the upper levels of Dorn and they

traveled from one to another. Now their party was larger, it having

been augmented by the appearance of other of Leon's friends. Fine

companions, these men of the purple, and the women were incomparable.

Especially Rhoda. They understood one another perfectly now. It was all

as he had pictured it.

Someone proposed that they visit the intermediate levels. It would be

such a lark to watch the mechanicals. They made the drop in a lift. A

laughing, riotous party. And Peter was one of them! He felt that he had

known them for years. Rhoda clung to his arm, and the languorous glances

from under her long lashes set the blood racing madly in his veins.

* * * * *

In the levels of the mechanicals they romped boisterously. To them the

strange robots--creatures of steel and glass and copper--were objects of

ridicule. Poor, senseless mechanisms that performed the tasks that made

the wearers of the purple independent of labor. Here they saw the

preparation of their synthetic food, untouched by human hands. In one

chamber a group of mechanicals, soulless and brainless, engaged in the

delicate chemical compounding of raw materials that went into the making

of their clothing. Here was a nursery, where tiny tots born to the

purple were reared to adolescence by unfeeling but efficient mechanical

nurses. The mothers of the purple could not be bothered with their

offspring until they had reached the age of reason. The whirring

machinery of a huge power plant provided much amusement for the feminine

members of the party. It was all so massive; throbbing with energy. But

dirty! Ugh! Lucky the attendants could be mechanicals.

"We have visited the lower levels," whispered Rhoda in his ear, "but not

often. It isn't pleasant. Ignorant fools in the gray denim--too many of

them. I don't know why we permit their existence. Fools who will not

learn. Education made us as we are, and they won't take it. Sullen

looks and evil leers are all that they have for us. Hope nobody suggests

going down there now."

"Me, too," said Peter. He had forgotten that once he was Karl Krassin, a

wearer of the despised gray.

Someone in the party was becoming restless. They must move on.

"Where to?" asked Peter.

"Sans Dolor, sweet boy. A pleasure city within a hundred kilometers of

Dorn. You'll love it, Peter."

A pleasure city! Fondest dream of the wearers of the gray! In the dim

past, when he was Karl, he had dreamed it often. Now he was to visit

one!

* * * * *

They were atop the city now and the crystal palace of the Zar shimmered

in the sunlight off there across the flat upper surface of Dorn. But it

seemed so far away that Peter did not give it a second thought. He was

living in the present.

A swift aero took them into the skies and they roared out above the

wilderness that was everywhere between the great cities of earth. Funny

nobody thought of leaving the cities and exploring the jungles of the

outside. But, of course, it wasn't necessary. They had everything they

needed within the cities. All of their wants were supplied by the

mechanicals and by the few toilers in the gray who still persisted in

ignorance and in some perverse ideas that they must work in order to

live. Besides, the jungle was dangerous.

Sans Dolor loomed into view, a great island floating in the air a

thousand meters above the tossing waters of the ocean. Peter gave not a

thought to the forces that kept it suspended. Dimly he recalled certain

words of old Rudolph, words regarding the artificial emanations that had

been discovered as capable of counteracting the force of gravity. But

his mind was intent on the pleasures to come.

They were over the city. Carefully tended foliage lined its streets and

a smooth lagoon glistened in its center. Its towers and spires were

decorated with gay colors. The streets were filled with wearers of the

purple and the nude bodies of bathers in the lagoon gleamed white in the

strong sunlight.

He sensed anew the nearness of Rhoda. Her soft warm hand nestled in his

and she responded instantly to his sudden embrace.

There came a shock and the party was stilled in dismay. The aero

careened violently and the pilot struggled with controls that were dead.

Sans Dolor dropped rapidly away beneath them. They were shooting

skyward, drawn by some inexplicable and invisible energy from above.

* * * * *

Rhoda screamed and held him close, trembling violently. All of the women

screamed and the men cursed. Leon arose to his feet and stared at Peter.

The friendliness was gone from his features and he spat forth an

accusation. A glistening mechanism appeared in his hand as if by magic.

A ray generator! He had been appointed by the Zar to guard this upstart

and, whatever happened, he'd not let him escape with his life. The girl

shuddered at sight of the weapon and extricated herself from his arms.

Her affection too had been a pose.

Peter's mind was clearing from the effects of the drug. He had not the

slightest idea of what might have caused the quick change in the

situation but he resolved he would die fighting, if die he must. Leon

fumbled with the catch of the generator. It refused to operate. The

force that was drawing them upward had paralyzed all mechanisms aboard

the little aero. Flinging it from him in disgust he sprang for Peter.

Their minds befuddled, the rest of the men watched dully. The women

huddled together in a corner, whimpering. They were a sorry lot after

all, thought Karl. He was no longer Peter Van Dorn, and he thrilled to

the joy of battle.

* * * * *

Leon Lemaire was no mean antagonist. His flailing arms were everywhere

and a huge fist caught Karl on the side of his head and sent him

reeling. But this only served to clear his mind further and to fill him

with a cold rage. He bored in unmercifully and Lemaire soon was on the

defensive. A blow to his midsection had him puffing and Karl hammered in

rights and lefts to the now sinister face that rocked his opponent to

his heels. But the minion of the Zar was crafty. He slid to the floor as

if groggy, then with catlike agility, dove for Karl's knees, bringing

him down with a crash.

The air whistled by them as the ship was drawn upward with ever-increasing

speed. The other passengers cowered in fright as the two men rolled over

and over on the floor, banging at each other indiscriminately. Both

were hurt. Karl's lip was split, and bleeding profusely. One eye was

closing. But now he was on top and he pummeled his opponent to a pulp.

Long after he ceased resisting them, the blows continued until the

features of Leon Lemaire were unrecognizable. The infuriated Karl did not

see that one of the members of the party was creeping up on him from

behind. Neither was he aware that the upward motion of the aero had

ceased and that they now hung motionless in space. A terrific blow at

the base of his skull sent him sprawling. Must have been struck by a

rocket, one of those funny ships that crossed the ocean so quickly. A

million lights danced before his aching eyeballs.

Lying prone across the inert body of his foe, dimly conscious and

fingers clutching weakly, he knew that the cabin was filled with people.

Alien voices bellowed commands. There was the screaming of women; the

sound of blows; curses ... then all was silence and darkness.

* * * * *

It was a far cry to the little book shop off Cooper Square, but Karl was

calling for Rudolph when he next awoke to the realization that he was

still in the land of the living. His head was bandaged and his tongue

furry. A terrible hangover. Then he heard voices and they were

discussing Peter Van Dorn. He opened one eye as an experiment. The other

refused to open. But it might have been worse. At least he was alive; he

could see well enough with the one good optic.

"Sh-h!" whispered one of the voices. "He's recovering!"

He looked solemnly into the eyes of an old man; a pair of wise and

gentle eyes that reminded him somehow of Rudolph's.

"Quiet now, Peter," said the old man. "You'll be all right in a few

minutes. Banged up a bit, you are, but nothing serious."

"Don't call me Peter," objected Karl. He loathed the sound of the name;

loathed himself for his recent thoughts and actions. "I am Karl

Krassin," he continued, "and as such will remain until I die."

There were others in the room and he saw glances of satisfaction pass

between them. This was a strange situation. These men were not of the

purple. Neither were they of the gray. Their garments shone with the

whiteness of pure silver. And that's what they were; of finely woven

metallic cloth. Was he in another world?

"Very well, Karl." The kind old man was speaking once more. "I merely

want you to know that you are among friends--your father's friends."

* * * * *

Surprised into complete wakefulness, Karl struggled to a seated position

and surveyed the group that faced him. They were a fine looking lot,

mostly older men, but there was a refreshing wholesomeness about them.

"My father?" he faltered. "He's not alive."

"No, my poor boy. Derek Van Dorn left this life at the hands of your

uncle, Zar Boris. But we, his friends, are here to avenge him and to

restore to you his throne."

"But--but--I still do not understand."

"Of course not, because we've kept ourselves hidden from the world for

more than twenty-two years, waiting for this very moment. There are

forty-one of us, including Rudolph, my brother. We have lived in the

jungle since Boris conquered the Eastern Hemisphere. But amongst our

numbers were several scientists, two greater than was Boris, even in his

heyday. They have done wonderful things and we are now prepared to take

back what was taken from Derek--and more. His life we can not

restore--Heaven rest him--but his kingdom we can. And to his son it

shall be returned.

"You were given into Rudolph's care when little more than a babe in arms

and he has cared for you well. We've watched, you know, in the

detectoscopes--long range radiovision mechanisms that can penetrate

solid walls, the earth itself, to bring to us the images and voices of

persons who may be on the other side of the world. We've followed your

every move, my boy, and the first time we feared for you was yesterday

when the drug of the Zar's physician stole away your sense of right and

wrong. But we were in time to save you, and now we are ready to kneel at

your feet and proclaim you our king. First there is the Zar to be dealt

with and then we shall set up the new regime. Are you with us?"

* * * * *

Karl gazed at the speaker in wonder. He a king? Always to live amongst

the wearers of the purple? To be responsible for the welfare of half the

world? It was unthinkable! But Zar Boris, the murderer of his own

father--he must be punished, and at the hands of the son!

"I'll do it," he said simply. "That is, I'll do whatever you have

planned in the way of exterminating the Zar. Then we'll talk of the new

empire. But how is the Zar to be overcome? I thought he was invincible,

with his Moon men and terrible weapons."

"Ah! That, my boy, is where our scientists have triumphed. True, his

rays were terrible. They could not be combatted when he first returned.

The strange chemicals and gases of the Moon men defied analysis or

duplication. His citadel atop the city of Dorn is proof against them

all; proof against explosives and rays of all kinds known to him. The

disintegration and decomposition rays have no effect on the crystal of

its walls. It is hermetically sealed from the outer air so can not be

gassed. The vibration impulses have no effect upon its reinforced

structure. But there is a ray, a powerful destructive agent, against

which it is not proof. And our scientists have developed this agency.

You shall have the privilege of pressing the release of the energy that

destroys the arch-fiend in his lair. His dominance over, the empire will

fall. We shall take it--for you."

A strange exaltation shone from the faces of those in the room, and Karl

found that it was contagious. His bosom swelled and he itched to handle

the controls of this wonderful ray.

"This ray," continued the brother of old Rudolph, "carries the longest

vibrations ever measured, the vibrations of infra-red, the heat-ray. We

have succeeded in concentrating a terrific amount of power in its

production, and with it are able to produce temperatures in excess of

that of the interior of the earth, where all substances are molten or

gaseous. The Zar's crystal palace cannot withstand it for a second. He

cannot escape!"

"How'll you know he's there at the time?" Karl was greatly excited, but

he was curious too.

"Come with me, my boy. I'll show you." The old man led him from the room

and the others followed respectfully.

* * * * *

They stopped at a circular port and Karl saw that they were high above

the earth in a vessel that hovered motionless, quivering with what

seemed like human eagerness to be off.

"This vessel?" he asked.

"It's a huge sphere; the base of our operations. To it we drew the aero

on which you were fighting. A magnetic force discovered by our

scientists and differing only slightly from that used in counteracting

gravity. We let the rest of them go; foolishly I think. But it's done

now and we have no fear. From this larger vessel we shall send forth

smaller ones, armed with the heat-ray. The flagship of the fleet is to

be yours and you'll lead the attack on Dorn. Here--I'll show you the

Zar."

They had reached the room of the detectoscopes--a mass of mechanisms

that reminded Karl of nothing so much as the vitals of the intermediate

levels which he had visited with Leon--and Rhoda. He knew that he

flushed when he thought of her. What a fool he had been!

A disc glowed as one of the silver-robed strangers manipulated the

controls. The upper surface of Dorn swung into view. Rapidly the image

drew nearer and they were looking at the crystal pyramid that was the

Zar's palace. Down, down to its very tip they passed. Karl recoiled from

the image as it seemed they were falling to its glistening sides. The

sensation passed. They were through, penetrating solid crystal, masonry,

steel and duralumin girders. Room after room was opened to their view.

It was magic--the magic of the upper levels.

* * * * *

Now they were in the throne room. A group of purple-clad men and women

stood before the dais. Leon, Rhoda--all of his wild companions were

there, facing the dais. The Zar was raging and the words of his speech

came raucously to their ears through the sound-producing mechanism.

"You've failed miserably, all of you," he screamed. "He's gotten away

and you know the penalty. Taru--the vibrating ray!"

The Moon man already was fussing with a gleaming machine, a machine with

bristling appendages having metallic spheres on their ends, a machine in

which dozens of vacuum tubes glowed suddenly.

Rhoda screamed. It was a familiar sound to Karl. He noted with

satisfaction that Leon could hardly stand on his feet and that his face

was covered with plasters. Then, startled, he saw that Leon was

shivering as with the ague. His outline on the screen grew dim and

indistinct as the rate of vibration increased. Then the body bloated and

became misty. He could see through it. The vibrating death! His father

had gone the same way!

Karl groaned at the thought. The whine of the distant machine rose in

pitch until it passed the limit of audibility. Tiny pin-points of

incandescence glowed here and there from the Zar's victims as periods of

vibration were reached that coincided with the natural periods of

certain of the molecules of their structure. They were no longer

recognizable as human beings. Shimmering auras surrounded them. Suddenly

they were torches of cold fire, weaving, oscillating with inconceivable

rapidity. Then they were gone; vanished utterly.

The Zar laughed--that horrible cackle again.

"Great God!" exclaimed Karl, "let's go! The fiend must not live a moment

longer than necessary. Are you ready?"

Rudolph's brother smiled. "We're ready Karl," he said.

* * * * *

The great vessel hummed with activity. The five torpedo-shaped aeros of

the battle fleet were ready to take off from the cavities in the hull.

In the flagship Karl was stationed at the control of the heat-ray. His

instructions in its operation had been simple. A telescopic sight with

crosshairs for the centering of the object to be attacked; a small

lever. That was all. He burned with impatience.

Then they were dropping; falling clear of the mother ship. The pilot

pressed a button and the electronic motors started. A burst of roaring

energy streamed from the tapered stern of their vessel and the earth

lurched violently to meet them. Down, down they dived until the rocking

surface of Dorn was just beneath them. Then they flattened out and

circled the vast upper surface. From the corner of his eye Karl saw that

the other four vessels of his fleet were just behind. There was a flurry

among the wasplike clouds of pleasure craft over the city. They scurried

for cover. Something was amiss!

"Hurry!" shouted Karl. "The warning is out! There is no time to lose!"

He pressed his face to the eye-piece of his sight, his finger on the

release lever of the ray. The crystal pyramid crossed his view and was

gone. Again it crossed, more slowly this time. And now his sight was

dead on it, the gleaming wall rushing toward him. Pressure on the tiny

button. They'd crash into the palace in another second! But no, a

brilliant flash obscured his vision, a blinding light that made the sun

seem dark by comparison. They roared on and upward. He took his eye from

the telescope and stared ahead, down. The city was dropping away, and,

where the crystal palace had stood, there was a spreading blob of molten

material from which searing vapors were drifting. The roofs of the city

were sagging all around and great streams of the sparkling, sputtering

liquid dripped into the openings that suddenly appeared. Derek Van Dorn

was avenged.

"Destroy! Destroy!" yelled Karl madly. A microphone hung before him and

his words rang through every vessel of his convoy.

* * * * *

The lust of battle was upon him. A fleet of the Zar's aeros had risen

from below; twenty of them at least. These would be manned by Moon

creatures, he knew, and would carry all of the dreadful weapons which

had originated on that strange body. But he did not know that his own

ships were insulated against most of the rays used by the Zar's forces.

He knew only that he must fight; fight and kill; exterminate every last

one of the Zar's adherents or be exterminated in the attempt.

Kill! Kill! The madness was contagious. His pilot was a marvel and drove

his ship straight for the massed ships of the foe. The air was vivid

with light-streamers. A ray from an enemy vessel struck the thick glass

of the port through which he looked and the outer surface was shattered

and pock-marked. But a cloud of vapor and a dripping stream of fiery

liquid told him his own ray had taken effect on a vessel of the enemy.

One! They wheeled about and spiraled, coming up under another of the

Zar's aeros. It vanished in a puff of steam and they narrowly missed

being covered by the falling remnants of incandescent liquid. Two!

Karl's aim was good and he gloated in the fact. Three! They climbed and

turned over, dropping again into the fray. Four!

The air grew stifling, for the expended energy of the enemies' rays must

needs be absorbed. It could not disintegrate them nor decompose their

bodies, but the contacts were many and the liberation of heat enormous.

They were suffocating! But Karl would not desist. They drove on, now

beneath, now above an enemy ship. He lost count.

One of his own vessels was in trouble. The report came to him from the

little speaker at his ear. He looked around in alarm. A glowing object

reeled uncertainly over there between two of the aeros of the Zar. The

concentration of beams of vibrations was too much for the sturdy craft.

It was red hot and its occupants burned alive where they sat. Suddenly

it slipped into a spin and went slithering down into the city, leaving a

gaping opening where it fell. This sobered him somewhat, but he went

into the battle with renewed fury.

* * * * *

How many had they brought down? Fifteen? Sixteen? He tore his purple

jacket from his body. The perspiration rolled from his pores. His own

ship would be next. But what did it matter? Kill! Kill! He shouted once

more into the microphone, then dived into battle. Another and another!

In Heaven's name, how many were there? It was maddening. If only he

could breathe. His lungs were seared; his eyes smarting from the heat.

And then it was over.

Three of the Zar's aeros remained, and these turned tail to run for it.

No! They were falling, nose down, under full power; diving into the city

from which they had come. Suicide? Yes. They couldn't face the

recriminations that must come to them. And anything was better than

facing that burning death from the strange little fighters which had

come from out the skies. Dorn was a mass of wreckage.

Karl tore at the fastenings of the ports, searing his fingers on the

heated metal. His pilot had collapsed, the little aero heading madly

skyward with no guiding hand. Air! They must have air! He loosened the

pilot's jacket; slapped frantically at his wrists in the effort to bring

him to consciousness. Then he was at the controls of the vessel, tugging

on first one, then the other. The aero circled and spun, executing the

most dangerous of sideslips and dives. A little voice was speaking to

him--the voice of the radio--instructing him. In a daze he followed

instructions as best he could. The whirlings of the earth stabilized

after a time and he found he was flying the vessel; climbing rapidly.

* * * * *

A sense of power came to him as the little voice of the radio continued

to instruct. Here were the controls of the electronic motor; there the

gravity-energy. He was proceeding in the wrong direction. But what did

it matter? He learned the meaning of the tiny figures of the altimeter;

the difference between the points of the compass. Still he drove on.

"East! Turn East!" begged the little voice from the radio. "You're

heading west. Your speed--a thousand kilometers an hour--it's too fast.

Turn back, Zar Peter!"

He tore the loud speaker of the radio from its fastenings. West! He

wanted to go west! On and on he sped, becoming more and more familiar

with the workings of the little vessel as he progressed. A cooling

breeze whistled from the opened ports, a breeze that smelled of the sea.

His heart sang with the wonder of it all. He could fly. And fly he did.

Zar Peter? Never! He knew now where he belonged; knew what he wanted.

He'd find the coast of North America. Follow it until he located New

York. A landing would be easy, for had not the voice instructed him in

the use of the gravity-energy? He'd make his way to the lower levels, to

the little book shop of Rudolph Krassin. A suit of gray denim awaited

him there and he'd never discard it.

* * * * *

Onward he sped into the night, which was falling fast. He held to his

westward course like a veteran of the air lanes. The pilot had ceased to

breathe and Karl was sorry. Game little devil, that pilot. Have to shove

his body overboard. Too bad.

Rudolph's brother would understand. He'd be watching in the detectoscope.

And the others--those who had wished to seat him on a throne--they'd

understand, too. They'd have to!

Rudolph would forgive him, he knew. Paul Van Dorn--his own cousin--the

secret agents of the Zar would never locate him! Too many friends of

Rudolph's were of the red police.

He gave himself over to happy thoughts as the little aero sped on in the

darkness. Home! He was going home! Back to the gray denim, where he

belonged and where now he would remain content.

The Ape-Men of Xlotli

_By David R. Sparks_

A beautiful face in the depths of a geyser--and Kirby plunges into

a desperate mid-Earth conflict with the dreadful Feathered

Serpent.