they went, until finally they
were out in open space, shooting toward distant Tellus at the maximum
acceleration of which their small craft was capable.

Costigan cut the other two phones out of circuit and spoke, his
attention fixed upon some extremely distant point.

"Samms!" he called, sharply. "Costigan. We're out ... all right ... yes
... sure ... absolutely ... you tell 'em, Sammy; I've got company here."

Through the sound-disks of their helmets the girl and the captain had
heard Costigan's share of the conversation. Bradley stared at his
erstwhile first officer in amazement, and even Clio had often heard that
mighty, half-mythical name. Surely that bewildering young man must rank
high, to speak so familiarly to Virgil Samms, the all-powerful head of
the space-pervading Secret Service of the Triplanetary League!

"You've turned in a general call-out," Bradley stated, rather than
asked.

"Long ago--I've been in touch right along," Costigan answered. "Now that
they know what to look for and know that ether-wave detectors are
useless, they can find it. Every vessel in seven sectors, clear down to
the scout patrols, is concentrating on this point, and the call is out
for all battleships and cruisers afloat. There are enough operatives out
there with ultra-waves to locate that globe, and once they spot it
they'll point it out to all the other vessels."

"But how about the other prisoners?" asked the girl. "They'll all be
killed, won't they?"

"Hard telling," Costigan shrugged. "Depends on how things turn out. We
lack a lot of being safe ourselves yet, and it's my personal opinion
that there's going to be a real war."

"What's worrying me mostly is our own chance," Bradley assented. "They
will chase us, of course."

"Sure, and they'll have more speed than we have. Depends on how far away
the nearest Triplanetary vessels are. Anyway, we've done everything we
can do--it's in the laps of the gods now."

Silence fell, and Costigan cut in Clio's phone and came over to the seat
upon which she was reclining, white and stricken--worn out by the
horrible and terrifying ordeals of the last few hours. As he seated
himself beside her she blushed vividly, but her deep blue eyes met his
gray ones steadily.

"Clio, I ... we ... you ... that is," he flushed hotly and stopped. This
secret agent, whose clear, keen brain no physical danger could cloud;
who had proved over and over again that he was never at a loss in any
e