e did not enter his
plans.

* * * * *

The creamy liquid in the glassy dome began, as before, to swirl
slowly: but apart from that its action was different. The white mass,
instead of discharging the vapor-laden bubbles, became a whipping,
highly agitated whirlpool as the tubes below glowed softly and ribbons
of golden light snaked out and laced through the nude body of
Kashtanov. The liquid above flowed rapidly in a complete circle, its
center sucked hollow, exactly as a glass quarter-filled with water
behaves when rotated quickly. Thus the outer surface of the dome,
coated inside with the milky liquid, gleamed and scintillated as the
whirl of light struck it and danced off it: and it even became dimly
reflective.

In seconds Kashtanov's figure lost definite outline and assumed a
ghostly transparency that bared the internal organs and veins: and
then his skeleton appeared.

Istafiev was facing the control panel. As he gathered his limbs for
the decisive leap, Chris's eyes were on his stocky back. But Istafiev
was watching keenly the gleaming, glassy dome above.

He was surveying the action of the white substance and judging the
time of the process by it. Then suddenly his vision centered on
something that had seemed to move on the surface of the dome.

Something had moved. Chris, lying against the wall behind, had opened
his eyes fully, had dragged back his legs beneath him and balanced
himself for his leap. And, in distorted perspective, his actions were
reflected on the dome.

Just for a second he poised--then sprang.

The speed Istafiev showed seemed foreign to the build of his body. In
an instant he had whirled from the switchboard, fingers not lingering
to release Kashtanov, and leaped.

* * * * *

They met at the table. Two hands shot out for the gun lying on it.
Chris grabbed it first. But he paid for his speed. The swipe he had
aimed with his left arm went wild; a fist thudded into his stomach and
belted the wind from him, and he felt his gun-wrist seized and
wrenched back.

Gasping for breath, dizzy, only the fighting instinct enabled him to
crane a leg behind the other and throw his whole weight forward. The
planks of the floor shivered under the two bodies that toppled onto
them.

There was a melee on the floor, furious, savage, mad. In cold fact, it
lasted merely for seconds; but Chris was grappling with a man whose
strength was