r and passed out. Through it Chris could see the
tiny clearing, dark under the camouflaged framework, now closed once
more; the light from the hut showed him the wings of the
helicopter-plane standing there. He heard, moreover, the sound of a
shovel from somewhere, and knew that a lonely grave was being dug in
the wilderness. Then Istafiev shouted:

"Grigory! That grave, make it wide, make room for two." He came back
and peered sidewise at Chris. "Not conscious yet?" A foot thudded into
the American's side. "No. Well, I see to him when you are gone,
Kashtanov. Yess, thick darkness iss here. Time to begin. Take off your
clothes."

* * * * *

Chris was now keenly alert, poised, ready for any chance that might
come. The odds were two or three to one, and a gun into the bargain,
but the stakes were higher than any ever played for before; and a
stroke had to be made, no matter how seemingly hopeless. Through his
lashes he watched, turned things over in his mind--and something
leaped within him when he saw Kashtanov unbuckle the gun around his
waist and lay it down, meanwhile taking off the clothes he was
wearing: and when he heard the question which followed, and Istafiev's
answer.

Naked, lean-muscled and sinewy, Kashtanov paused before the door of
the cage. "How will this affect me?" he asked. "Painful?"

"You will be conscious of no sensation. You will see me, yess, and
the room, but you will be paralyzed completely while the power is on."

"Paralyzed, eh?" murmured Kashtanov. "Well, let's go," and he placed
himself inside the cage.

Paralyzed, when the power was on! In effect, that left only Istafiev
in the room: the man Grigory was outside, and the noise of the dynamo
would drown any shouts for help. And Kashtanov's gun was on the
table....

Imperceptibly, Chris's muscles tensed as he judged the distance to the
table and reckoned out each movement after the first leap. One
sweeping blow with the gun would put Istafiev safely out of action;
then he could be bound and Grigory summoned and tied also at the point
of the gun. If, by that time, Kashtanov was invisible inside the cage,
the levers could be reversed and his body brought back to visibility
and bound.

Then--a call broadcast from the hut's radio-telephone to headquarters
at the Canal and the fleets in the Pacific!

"It'll work," Chris told himself. "It's damn well got to!"

But a certain part of the invisibility machin