m her breast; levelled it at the vase. The green ray leaped
forth, spread over the crystal, but before its action could even be
begun, a flash of light shot from O'Keefe's hand, his automatic spat
and the trembling vase flew into fragments. As quickly as he had drawn
it, he thrust the pistol back into place and stood there empty handed,
looking at her sternly. From the anteroom came shouting, a rush of
feet.

Yolara's face was white, her eyes strained--but her voice was unshaken
as she called to the clamouring guards:

"It is nothing--go to your places!"

But when the sound of their return had ceased she stared tensely at
the Irishman--then looked again at the shattered vase.

"It is true!" she cried, "but see, the Keth is--alive!"

I followed her pointing finger. Each broken bit of the crystal was
vibrating, shaking its particles out into space. Broken it the bullet
of Larry's had--but not released it from the grip of the
disintegrating force. The priestess's face was triumphant.

"But what matters it, O shining urn of beauty--what matters it to the
vase that is broken what happens to its fragments?" asked Larry,
gravely--and pointedly.

The triumph died from her face and for a space she was silent;
brooding.

"Next," whispered O'Keefe to me. "Lots of surprises in the little
box; keep your eye on the opening and see what comes out."

We had not long to wait. There was a sparkle of anger about Yolara,
something too of injured pride. She clapped her hands; whispered to
the maid who answered her summons, and then sat back regarding us,
maliciously.

"You have answered me as to your strength--but you have not proved it;
but the Keth you have answered. Now answer this!" she said.

She pointed out into the garden. I saw a flowering branch bend and
snap as though a hand had broken it--but no hand was there! Saw then
another and another bend and break, a little tree sway and fall--and
closer and closer to us came the trail of snapping boughs while down
into the garden poured the silvery light revealing--nothing! Now a
great ewer beside a pillar rose swiftly in air and hurled itself
crashing at my feet. Cushions close to us swirled about as though in
the vortex of a whirlwind.

And unseen hands held my arms in a mighty clutch fast to my sides,
another gripped my throat and I felt a needle-sharp poniard point
pierce my shirt, touch the skin just over my heart!

"Larry!" I cried, despairingly. I twisted my h