ed and tawny wine.

"The cylinder must be about thirty feet long," the marvelling American
told himself, "and about ten feet in diameter. Guess it works on the
same principle as the compressed air tubes the department stores use
to send change with."

Gingerly he tested the nearest divan and marvelled at the curious
softness of what appeared to be a gigantic tiger skin. Meanwhile Hero
Giles entered, his stern features even more serious, but with him was
a younger man who resembled him not a little.

"Fair brother," said the Atlantean to his companion, "this is he of
whom I spoke. Friend Nelson, this is Hero John, my next youngest
brother--he, too, speaks the language of the great Sir Henry Hudson."

The metallic clang of the door being shut brought a sharp qualm to
Nelson's heart. "What are they doing?" he demanded quickly.

"The menials bolt the door beyond," explained Hero Giles with amused
gravity. "In a moment our cylinder will be placed in the dispatching
chamber, where steam pressure will be exerted. We shall then be hurled
through this vacuum tube-road to Heliopolis, greatest city of Atlans.
In an hour we will be there."

Outside sounded the sudden insistent clangor of a gong, and
immediately the hiss of steam grew louder. The car shuddered as the
hissing rose to an eery scream, then all at once the cylinder leaped
forward, nearly hurling Nelson from his seat. He struggled as best he
might to gain his equilibrium, for the eyes of the others were on him.

Then, more smoothly, the great cylinder gathered speed and hurtled on
through the darkness of the tube-road towards Heliopolis, where Victor
Nelson would read the book of Fate.

CHAPTER IV

On the arrival platform at Heliopolis reigned a fierce excitement.
Nelson noted countless armed and unarmed warriors hurrying to and fro,
desperately intent on reaching their various posts, and snarling
ill-temperedly as they elbowed their fellows aside. As soon as they
appeared, Hero Giles and his brother became the center of an excited
press of gorgeously armored officers.

"Hum!" murmured the aviator under his breath. "Something's happened.
Must be a revolution, an earthquake or a Democratic convention in
town; these boys seem all steamed up."

Intently he studied the ring of fierce, red bearded faces surrounding
his late hosts and gathered that indeed some event of overwhelming
importance had taken place. Presently a splendid falcon-eyed old man
in a yellow