sult was
electrifying. From the upended slit of mouth in that goggling face,
came a scream. It pierced the heavy tense silence of the hall, ghastly
in its timbre, like nothing any of us had ever heard before. And in it
was conveyed agony as though Brayley had not merely pinched that
flabby arm, but had thrust a red-hot knife into its vitals.

The brain could feel pain indeed. It crouched with stiffened arms and
legs. The membrane of its great head seemed to bulge with greater
distension; the knotted blood-vessels were gorged with purple blood.
The eyes rolled. Then it closed its mouth. Its gaze steadied upon
Brayley's face, so baleful a gaze that as I could see the reflection
of its luminous purple glow a shudder of fear and revulsion swept me.

"So you did not like that?" Brayley steadied his voice. "If you don't
want more, you had better speak. How did you get here on Earth? What
are you trying to do here?"

There seemed an interminable silence; then Nippor took a menacing step
forward. "Speak! We will force it from you!"

And then it spoke. "Do--not--touch--me--again."

Indescribable voice! Human, animal or monster no one could say. But
the words were clear, precise; and for all their terror, they seemed
to hold an infinite command.

A wave of excitement swept the hall, but Brayley's gesture silenced
it. He leaped forward and bent low over the palpitating brain.

"So you can talk. You came as an enemy. We have given you every
chance today for friendship, and you have refused. What are you trying
to do to us?"

It only glared.

"Speak!"

"I will not tell you anything."

"Oh, yes, you will."

"No!"

All the men on the platform were crowding close to it now.

"Speak!" ordered Brayley again. "Here in Greater New York is a hiding
place. Where is it?"

No answer.

"Where is it? You are perhaps a leader of your world. I lead ours, and
I'm going to master you now. Where is this hiding place?"

The thing suddenly laughed, a gruesome, eerie cackle. "You will know
when it is too late. I think it is too late already."

"Too late for what?"

"To save your world. Doomed, your three worlds! Don't touch--me!"

It ended with a scream of apprehension as Nippor grasped the crooked
little arm. "Tell us!"

"No!" It screamed again. "Let--me--go!"

"Tell us!" Nippor strengthened his squeezing grip. The thing was
writhing, the thin ball of membrane palpitating, heaving. And suddenly
it burst. Over all its purp