of fresh air. The map had shown the warren to be about a mile
away. For the benefit of the technies who had to work there, the duct
was plainly marked; and the lighting, by infrequent emanation bulbs,
was adequate, though dim.

Mich'l had made no plans for a course of action after arriving at his
destination. He felt reasonably sure that if he could get into the
warren he would have a good chance to escape with Nida. In the
confusion he could hide her nearby, and perhaps effect the release of
the senator also. He had no doubt about his fate if he were caught.
Lane's pose of good sportsmanship having failed to impress Nida, he
had adopted simple, brutal coercion. Mich'l's fate, if caught
interfering, would be summary execution.

Mich'l found the grating which he sought. It bore the key number of
Lane's establishment. The key which would unlock it was of course in
the hands of the police; but the bars were badly corroded, and Mich'l
managed to bend them enough to permit the passage of his body.

He found himself in a small chamber, from which ducts led to all parts
of the warren. These ducts were too small to permit passage of his
body, however; it would be necessary to come into the open. A small
metal door promised egress. Mich'l climbed out, and faced a surprised
cook in the kitchen, engaged in flavoring synthetic food drinks.
Mich'l said explanatorily:

"Inspection, air service."

The cook did not know the regulations about keeping the air tunnels
locked. Moreover, he, like all other servants of the mighty, worked
unwillingly, being conscripted. He only grunted.

* * * * *

Mich'l made a pretense of testing the air currents. Presently he
stepped into one of the communicating corridors. The warren was
planned something like a house of the Surface Age, with luxuriously
furnished rooms, baths, dining halls, and all the appurtenances of
wealth. Arriving at a rotunda, in the center of which was a glowing
fountain, Mich'l encountered a guard. Boldly he asked him:

"Where is Mr. Mollon? I wish to see him."

The guard looked surprised.

"About Nida Mane, sir? I would hardly dare."

Mich'l looked at the man sharply, but there was no hint of recognition
in the stupid, phlegmatic face.

"What about Nida Mane? It is about her I wish to speak."

There was a slight stirring of interest in the soldier's face.

"He will be glad to see you, sir, if you bring news of her."

"Eh, yes? P