his wrist with a strap, I
saw a face appear--a face known throughout our Earth--the face of the
War-Director of Great London. Tarrano listened impassively. When the
voice ceased, he said without an instant's hesitation: "No!"

A decision irrevocable; the power almost of a deity seemed behind its
finality. "No! I--will--not--do--it!" Careful, slow enunciation as
though to make sure an inferior mentality could not mistake his words.
And with a click, Tarrano broke connection. The mirror went dark; he
hung his little disc and ear-piece back on his belt. Again he was
smiling at us gently, the incident forgotten already--dismissed from his
mind until the need to consider it should again arise.

"I remember you, Lady Elza, very well." A vague wistfulness came into
his voice. "I wish to speak with you alone--now--for a moment." He
touched two of the metal buttons of his shirt-front together. A man
appeared in the narrow tunnel-entrance to the garden. A small man, no
more than four and a half feet tall; a trim, but powerfully made little
figure, in the black and white linen uniform worn also by Tarrano. Yet
more pretentiously dressed than his superior. A broad belt of dangling
weapons; under it, a sash of red, encircling his waist and flowing down
one side. Over his white ruffled shirt, a short sleeveless vest of black
silk. A circular hat, with a vivid plume. A smooth-shaven face; black
hair long to the base of the neck; a deep, red-brown complexion. A
native of the Little People of Mars, here in the service of Tarrano. He
stood stiff and respectful in the tunnel entrance.

Tarrano said crisply: "Wolfgar, take these two men to the fourth tower.
Make them comfortable."

I met Georg's eyes. Leave Elza here alone with this man? Georg burst
out: "My sister goes with me!"

"So?" Tarrano's heavy brows went up inquiringly. A quizzical smile
plucked at his lips. "You need have no fear. The Lady Elza----" He swung
to her. "Not--afraid, are you?"

"I--no," she stammered.

"She'll come with us," I declared; but the stoutness of my words could
not hide my fear. Tarrano was still smiling; but as I took a protecting
step toward Elza, his smile died.

"You--will go--with Wolfgar--both of you." That same slow finality. His
face was impassive; but under his frowning bushy brows, his eyes
transfixed me. It was as though with his paralyzing ray he had rooted me
to the spot. And Georg beside me. Yet he had not moved from his careless
a