"

"He's no friend of mine," said McGuire as the thin, pendulous lips
repeated their whistling interrogation.

"I can't place them," mused the scientist. "Those facial
characteristics.... But they must be of some nationality, speak some
tongue."

He addressed himself to the figure with the immobile, horrid face.

"We do not understand you," he said with an ingratiating smile.
"_Comprenez vous Francaise?_... _Non?_"... German, perhaps, or
Spanish?... "_Sprecken sie Deutsche?_ _Usted habla Espanola?_..."

He followed with a fusillade of questions in strange and varying
tongues. "I've even tried him with Chinese," he protested in
bewilderment and stared amazed at his companion's laughter.

There had to be a reaction from the strain of the past hours, and
Lieutenant McGuire found the serious questioning in polyglot tongues
and the unchanging feline stare of that hideous face too much for his
mental restraint. He held his sides, while he shook and roared with
laughter beyond control, and the figure before him glared with evident
disapproval of his mirth.

* * * * *

There was a hissing order, and two figures from the corner sprang
forward to seize the flyer with long clinging fingers. Their strength
he had overestimated, for a violent throw of his body twisted him
free, and his outstretched hands sent the two sprawling across the
room. Their leader took one quick step forward, then paused as if
hesitating to meet this young adversary.

"Do go easy," Professor Sykes was imploring. "We do not know where we
are nor who they are, but we must do nothing to antagonize them."

McGuire had reacted from his hilarious seizure with an emotional swing
to the opposite extreme. "I'll break their damn necks," he growled,
"if they get rough with me." And his narrow eyes exchanged glare for
glare with those in the face like blood and ashes before him.

The cold cat eyes held steadily upon him while the scarlet figure
retreated. A louder call, shrill and vibrant, came from the thin lips,
and a swarm of bodies in dull red were scrambling into the room to
mass about their scarlet leader. Above and behind them the face under
its brilliant turban and golden clasp was glaring in triumph.

The tall figures crouched, grotesque and awkward; their long arms and
hands with grasping, tendril-like fingers were ready. McGuire waited
for the sharp hissing order that would throw these things upon him,
and he met