ned down. In an instant
the gigantic city was a smoking ruin.

The visions faded, and slowly he opened his eyes, looked about him. He
was still in the room of the circle of chairs--he was still on
Venus--then with sudden shock, understanding came. He knew the meaning
of these visions--the meaning of that strangely distorted New York, of
that red earth. It meant that this was what the Venerians believed was
to happen! They were trying to show him the plans of the owners and
builders of those gigantic ships! The New York he had seen was New York
as these men imagined it.

Startled, confused, his forehead furrowed, he rose unsteadily to his
feet. His head seemed whirling in the throes of a terrific headache. The
men about him were looking anxiously at him. He glanced toward Morey. He
was sleeping deeply in the seat, his features now and again reflecting
his sensations. It was his turn to learn this new language and see the
visions.

The old Venerian who had brought them there walked up to Arcot and spoke
to him in a softly musical language, a language that was sibilant and
predominated in liquid sounds; there were no gutturals, no nasals; it
was a more musical language than Earth men had ever before heard, and
now Arcot started in surprise, for he understood it perfectly; the
language was as familiar as English.

"We have taught you our language as quickly as possible--you may have a
headache, but you must know what we know as soon as possible. It may
well be that the fate of two worlds hangs on your actions. These men
have concentrated on you and taught you very rapidly with the massed
power of their minds, giving you visions of what we know to be in
preparation. You must get back to your wonderful ship as quickly as
possible; and yet you must know what has happened here on our world in
the last few years, as well as what happened twenty centuries ago.

"Come with me to my office, and we will talk. When your friend has also
learned, you may tell him."

Quickly Arcot followed the Venerian down the long corridors of the
building. The few people they met seemed intent on their own business,
paying little attention to them.

At last they seated themselves in the office where Arcot had first met
his escort; and there he listened to a new history--the history of
another planet.

"My name is Tonlos," the old man said. "I am a leader of my
people--though my title and position are unimportant. To explain would
entail a