blades to
pierce the flesh; and the instrument, it seemed, was of a size that
could enclose the writhing, helpless body of a man.

Other unnameable contrivances about the room took on new significance
with the knowledge that here was the chamber of horrors whose workings
had been seen by Althora in the mind of their captor--horrors of which
she could not speak.

* * * * *

McGuire was sick and giddy as the guards led him roughly back to their
prison room. And Professor Sykes, too, required no explanation of what
they had seen.

The guards were many, and resistance was useless, but each man looked
silently at the other's desperate eyes when the metal cords were
twisted again about their wrists, and their hands were tied securely
to metal rings anchored in the wall beside the window.

"And there," said the flyer, "goes our last chance of escape. They
were not as dumb as we thought: they knew how good a leap to the
pavement would look after we had been in there."

"Less than human!" Sykes was quoting the comment of Althora's brother.
"I think Djorn was quite conservative in his statement."

McGuire examined carefully the cords that tied his hands to the wall
beside him. The knots were secure, and the metal ring was smooth and
round. "I didn't know," he said, as he worked and twisted, "but there
might be a cutting edge, but we haven't a chance. No getting rid of
these without a wire cutter or an acetylene torch--and we seem to be
just out of both."

Professor Sykes tried to adopt the other's nonchalant tone. "Careless
of us," he began--then stopped breathless to press his body against
the wall.

"It's there!" he said. "Oh, my God, if I could only get it, it might
work--it might!"

"The battery," he explained to the man beside him, whose assumed
indifference vanished at this suggestion of hope; "--the little
battery that I used on the gun, to fire the explosive. It has an
astounding amperage, and a voltage around three hundred. It's in my
pocket--and I can't reach it!"

"You can't keep a good man licked!" McGuire exulted. "You mean that
the current might melt the wire?"

"Soften it, perhaps, depending upon the resistance." Sykes refused to
share the other's excitement. "But we can't get at it."

"We've got to," was the answer. "Move over this way." The man in khaki
twisted his arms awkwardly to permit him to bend his body to one side,
and beads of sweat stood out on his forehe