an easily kill those who refuse. You make the
drugs. I need plenty. Will you?"

"Yes."

"That iss good. I come back soon and gif you the catalyst for that
last reaction. Will you be ready?"

"Yes."

The blur outside our bars swung with a dizzying whirl as Polter turned
and left the room, locking its door after him with a reverberating
clank.

* * * * *

Left alone in his laboratory, Dr. Kent began his preparations for
making a fresh supply of the drugs. This room, with two smaller ones
adjoining, was at once his workshop and his prison. He stood at his
shelves, selecting the basic chemicals. He could not complete the
final compounds. The catalyst which was necessary to the final
reaction would be brought to him by Polter.

How long he worked there with his thoughts in a whirl at seeing Babs,
he did not know. His movements were automatic; he had done all this so
many times before. His mind was confused, and he was trembling from
head to foot, an old, queerly, unnaturally old man now--unnerved. His
shaking fingers could hardly hold the test tubes.

His thoughts were flying. Babs was here, come down from the world
above. It was disaster--the thing he had feared all these years.

He suddenly heard a voice.

"Father!"

And again: "Father!" A tiny voice, down by his shoe-tops. Two small
figures were there on the floor beside him. They were both panting,
winded by running. They were enlarging; they had come from a smaller
size.

It was Alan and Glora, who had followed Polter from the boat,
diminished again, and come running through the tiny crack under the
metal door of the laboratory.

They grew to a foot in size, down by Dr. Kent's legs. He was too
unnerved; he sat in a chair while Alan swiftly told him what had
happened. Babs was in the golden cage. Dr. Kent knew that; but none of
them knew what had happened to me.

"We must make you small, Father. We have the drugs, here with us."

"Yes! Yes, Alan. How much have you? Show me. Oh, my boy, that you are
here--and Babs--"

"Don't you worry, we'll get away from him."

* * * * *

Glora and Alan had almost reached Dr. Kent's size before their excited
fingers could get out the vials. They took some of the diminishing
drug to check their growth. Alan handed his father a black vial.

"Yes, lad--"

"No! Wait, Father! That's the wrong drug. This other--"

Dr. Kent had opened the vial. His tremb