It was starlight
reflected from Polter's shirt bosom. An abyss of distance was outside.
I could see nothing but the white glow.

Momentarily there was very little movement to the room. Only the
rhythmic sway of Polter's breathing and an occasional jolt as he
shifted his position. The floor was tilted at a sharp angle. Babs came
toward the couch, pulling herself along the wall railing.

I called softly, "Babs! Babs, dear!"

She stopped. I called again, "Babs! Don't cry out! It's George!
Here--stand still!"

She gave a little cry. "George--where are you? I don't--"

I slid out from my concealment and stood up, holding to the railing.

"Babs, dear."

Blessed normality of size! She cried again, "George! You! George,
dear--"

She edged along the railing, a step or two down the tilting floor,
then released her hold and flung herself into my waiting arms.

* * * * *

"I think we are landing. Hold the railing, George. When the room moves
it goes with a rush."

Babs laughed softly. It must have seemed to her, after being alone in
here, that now our plight was far less desperate. She had told me how
she was captured. A man accosted her on the terrace, saying he wanted
to speak to her about Alan. Then a weapon threatened her. Amid all
those people she was held up in old fashioned style, hurried to a
taxicar and whirled away.

She was saying now, "When Polter moves, it is dizzying. You'll see."

"I have already, Babs. Heavens, that swoop!"

The room was more level now. We carefully drew ourselves to the front
lattice. Polter was standing, and we had the white sheen from his
shirt-front. A sheer drop was outside the bars, but looking down I
could see the outlines of his body with the huge spread of the boat
interior underneath us.

A confusion of rumbling voices sounded. Blurred giant shapes were
outside. The room jolted and swayed as the boat landed and Polter
disembarked.

Babs stood clinging to me. Blessed normality of size! We, at least,
were normal--this metal barred room, Babs and I. But outside was the
abnormality of largeness. I think that in relation to us, the men were
of over two hundred foot stature, and the hunched Polter a trifle
less. It seemed as he walked that we were lurching at least a hundred
and fifty feet above the ground.

"You had better hide," Babs urged. "He might stop and speak to
someone. If anyone peered in here you would be seen: no chance then,
ev