ous proximity to us and is already so
close that her ether-lights are playing over us! Surely you must be
able to see them! We have received messages, but as yet I have only
been partially able to decode them! What I have decoded, however,
presages catastrophe--for I am sure that Mars and the Moon are in
confederation, and that the Moon-people have deliberately forced us
into contact with her ally!"

Cold fear clutched at the throat of Sarka as he caught the message. He
decided not to tell Jaska for the moment. He looked to right and left,
at the aircars on either side of him, then issued his commands.

"Faster! Faster! Be prepared to land in the area of the Gens of
Cleric, as close as possible to my laboratory!"

A strange, awesome sight, that flight of the rebels of Dalis' Gens
from the Moon to the Earth--like gleaming stars across the void. Far
out in Space they fled at terrific speed through almost utter
darkness, but their light was still blinding, lighting the way.

(_Concluded in the next issue_)

Murder Madness

CONCLUSION OF A FOUR-PART NOVEL

_By Murray Leinster_

[Illustration: _The deck was covered with panic-stricken folk who had
come in awful terror to watch. And all were slaves to The Master._]

[Sidenote: Bell has fought through tremendous obstacles to find and
kill The Master, whose diabolical poison makes murder-mad snakes of
the hands; and, as he faces the monster at last--his own hands start
to writhe!]

CHAPTER XV

The door of the car swung wide, and Ortiz's pale grim face peered in
behind the blue steel barrel of his automatic. He smiled queerly as
Jamison, with a grunt of relief, tapped Bell's wrist in sign to put
away his weapon.

"Ah, very well," said Ortiz, with the same queer smile upon his face.
"One moment."

He disappeared. On the instant there was the thunderous crashing of a
weapon. Bell started up, but Jamison thrust him back. Then Ortiz
appeared again with smoke still trickling from the barrel of his
pistol.

"I have just done something that I have long wished to do," he
observed coolly. "I have killed the chauffeur and his companion. You
may alight, now. I believe we will have half an hour or more. It will
do excellently."

He offered his hand to Paula as she stepped out. She seemed to shudder
a little as she took it.

"I do not blame you for shuddering, Senorita," he said politely, "but
men who are about to die may indulge in petty spites. And the
chauf