as rapidly being left behind by the
swifter flight of Venus through her orbit. The official season for the
mail-flyers was closed. The opposition of the two planets was long since
passed; millions of additional miles were adding to the space separating
them.

And the Earth Council was not sure of its men! Any one of them might
secretly be in Tarrano's service--and do us infinitely more harm if
brought to Venus, than if left at home.

We seemed of solid strength in the Central State. For the first time in
generations the _Rhaals_--the men of science from whom all the progress
of civilization on Venus came--departed from their attitude of
aloofness. Their work--always before industrial--now turned to the
sterner demands of war.

The Rhaal City[22] lay a brief flight from us. A grave sort of
people, these _Rhaals_. Men of square-cut, sober-colored garments; women
of sober grey flowing robes--white hair coiled upon their heads.
Intelligent women, dignified of demeanor; many of them learned as were
the men.

[Footnote 22: An awkward, unpronounceable word which for the purposes of
this narrative may be termed Industriana.]

Their city, teeming now with the preparations for war, was intensely
interesting to me. We spent most of our days in it, flying back at
nightfall to Maida's palace. Yet I shall not describe it, nor our
preparations, our days of activity--but hasten on to the first of the
extraordinary incidents impending.

It came--this first incident--through my thoughts of Elza. I was
worried--more than worried, sometimes almost terrified about her. My
instinct would have been to take a handful of men and dash to her
rescue--which of course would have been absurd. I tried to reassure
myself. Tarrano would treat her kindly. Soon, in full force, our army
would descend upon the City of Ice, capture it, destroy Tarrano--rescue
Elza.

Rescue Elza! Ah, there lay the difficulty which I never dared
contemplate in detail. How would we rescue her? Tarrano would treat her
kindly, now during his own security. But if, at the last, he saw his own
defeat, his death perhaps impending--would he treat her kindly then?

I loved Elza very deeply. A new torture came from it now. Did she love
me--or Tarrano? I remembered the gentleness of the man with her. His
dignity, his power--his undoubted genius. And who, what was I? A mere
news-gatherer. A man of no force, and little personality. A nonentity.
Sometimes as in my jealousy I con