ll you tell?"

"No!"

Miko laughed. "No? Then I shall write my name a little deeper...."

A black sear now--a trail etched in the quivering flesh.

"Oh!" Snap's face went white as chalk as he pressed his lips together.

"Or a little acid? This fire-writing does not really hurt? Tell me
what you did with those code words!"

"No!"

In his absorption Miko did not notice my light. Nor did I have the wit
to try and fire along it. I was trembling. Snap under torture!

As the beam went deeper. Snap suddenly screamed. But he ended, "No! I
will send no message for you--"

It had been only a moment. In the chart room window beside me again a
figure appeared! No image. A solid, living person, undisguised by any
cloak of invisibility. George Prince had chanced my fire and crept
upon me.

"Haljan! Don't attack me."

I dropped my light connections. As impulsively I stood up, I saw
through the window the figure of Coniston on the deck watching the
result of Prince's venture.

"Haljan--yield."

Prince no more than whispered it. He stood outside on the deck; the
low window casement touched his waist. He leaned over it.

"He's torturing Snap! Call out that you will yield."

The thought had already been in my mind. Another scream from Snap
filled me with horror. I shouted, "Miko! Stop!"

I rushed to the window and Prince gripped me. "Louder!"

I called louder: "Miko! Stop!" My upflung voice mingled with Snap's
agony of protest. Then Miko heard me. His head and shoulders showed up
there at the radio room oval.

"You--Haljan?"

Prince shouted, "I have made him yield. He will obey you if you stop
that torture."

I think that poor Snap must have fainted. He was silent. I called,
"Stop! I will do what you command."

Miko jeered, "That is good. A bargain, if you and Dean obey me. Disarm
him, Prince, and bring him out."

Miko moved back into the radio room. On the deck, Coniston was
advancing, but cautiously mistrustful of me.

"Gregg."

George Prince flung a leg over the casement and leaped lightly into
the dim chart room. His small slender figure stood beside me, clung to
me.

A moment, while we stood there together. No ray was upon us. Coniston
could not see us, nor could he hear our whispers.

"Gregg."

A different voice; its throaty, husky quality gone. A soft pleading.
"Gregg--Gregg, don't you know me? Gregg, dear...."

Why, what was this? Not George Prince? A masquerader, yet so like
George Prince.