been able to foresee.

The fact that the scientists of the Secret Service had discovered
ultra-waves as yet unknown to him was unfortunate. That Service was
itself unfortunate--impenetrable as it was, and incorruptible. He could
learn nothing whatever about it. He had heard vague rumors of certain
experiments--but even if they should discover something it would be too
late to do them any good. Even without invisibility he would have no
trouble in annihilating the massed Grand Fleet of the Triplanetary
League. He would very shortly collect his tribute and disappear. And
this new enemy, himself invisible and armed with heretofore unknown
weapons of dire power, who was apparently unaffected by his beams--even
he would discover that Roger the Great was no puny opponent. He would
analyze those unknown forces, regenerate them, and hurl them back upon
their senders.

Thinking thus, the man of gray sat coldly motionless at his great
multi-shielded desk, whose top was now swung up to become a board of
massed and tiered instruments and controls. He shut off his offensive
beams and surrounded the entire planetoid with the peculiarly rigid and
substantial shield which had so easily warded off Costigan's fiercest
attacks. And that shield was more effective than even its designer had
supposed--gray Roger had builded even better than he knew. For the
voracious and all-powerful converting beam of the Nevians, below the
level of the ether though it was, struck that perfectly transparent wall
and rebounded, defeated and futile. Struck and rebounded, then struck
and clung hungrily, licking out over that impermeable surface in darting
tongues of red flame as the surprised Nerado doubled and then quadrupled
his power. Fiercer and fiercer drove in the Nevian flood of force until
the whole immense globe of the planetoid was one scintillant ball of
scarlet energy, but still the pirates' shield remained intact--at what
awful drain of resource, Roger alone knew.

"Here is the analysis of his screen, sir." A Nevian computer handed his
chief a sheet of metal, upon which were engraved rows of symbols.

"Ah, a sixth-phase polycyclic. A screen of that type was scarcely to
have been expected from such a low form of life," Nerado commented, and
rapidly adjusted the many dials and switches before him.

As he did so the character of the clinging mantle of force changed. From
red it flamed quickly through the spectrum, became unbearably violet,
the