o Lodore," he added with an air of finality, "I will take you
with me and place you with my other women in the Seraglio of the
Stars."

Dirk swiftly stepped close to Zitlan and the latter quickly clasped a
tube that hung at his side, a tube of the sort that the soldiers had
carried.

"Your words and your manner are insolent," asserted Dirk angrily, "and I
warn you now to cease making yourself offensive."

"Dog!" exclaimed Zitlan fiercely, leveling the metal tube, "I'll--"

But the left fist of Dirk cut short his threat as it made a sudden
impact with his chin, and the Lodorian went crashing backward into some
exotic shrubbery with a look of surprise on his countenance.

Then Dirk heard an odd hissing and crackling sound, and he felt himself
becoming dizzy and weak.

Darkness seemed to sweep in upon him; he felt that he was dropping
swiftly through space, and then he lost consciousness.

* * * * *

A vague and shadowy figure was standing close by his side and peering
down into his face. After a while he realized that it was Steinholt.

"Steinholt!" he gasped. "Why--why am I here--in Fragoni's? I must have
had a dream--and yet...."

He furrowed his brow in thought and, gradually, he commenced to remember
what had happened.

"It was no dream," said the scientist softly. "Do you remember the
trouble that you had with Zitlan?"

"Yes," replied Dirk. "I remember that he was insolent to Inga and that I
lost my temper and struck him. But what happened to me? I don't recall
that anybody hit me. I did hear sort of a peculiar sound just before I
started to pass out, but--"

"Teuxical took a shot at you," said Steinholt, "and you have been
unconscious for over thirty-six hours."

"Took a shot at me!" exclaimed Dirk. "What did he shoot me with?"

"That is what we all would like to know," said Steinholt. "He leveled
one of those damn tubes at you and pressed a button on it. There was a
hissing sound, a flash of light, and you got groggy, and went out. He
potted Zitlan, too," continued Steinholt, "and he apologized for the
trouble that his son was responsible for. Do you know," he added, "I
sort of like the old man."

* * * * *

Lazarre, with a sympathetic smile on his face, entered the room at that
moment and overheard the conversation.

"Old man is right," he remarked, with a little note of awe in his voice.
"Teuxical admits that he is three thousand