as it drew nearer. Did I sense in it a
doubt, an uncertainty? The crystal-tongued, unseen choristers that
accompanied it subtly seemed to reflect the doubt; their notes were
not sure, no longer insistent; rather was there in them an undertone
of hesitancy, of warning! Yet on came the Shining One until it stood
plain beneath us, searching with those eyes that thrust from and
withdrew into unknown spheres, the golden gateway, the cliff face, the
castle's rounded bulk--and more intently than any of these, the dome
wherein sat the Three.

Behind it each face of the dead-alive turned toward it, and those
beside it throbbed and gleamed with its luminescence.

Yolara crept close, just beyond the reach of its spirals. She
murmured--and the Dweller bent toward her, its seven globes steady in
their shining mists, as though listening. It drew erect once more,
resumed its doubtful scrutiny. Yolara's face darkened; she turned
abruptly, spoke to a captain of her guards. A dwarf raced back between
the palisades of dead-alive.

Now the priestess cried out, her voice ringing like a silver clarion.

"Ye are done, ye Three! The Shining One stands at your door,
demanding entrance. Your beasts are slain and your power is gone. Who
are ye, says the Shining One, to deny it entrance to the place of its
birth?"

"Ye do not answer," she cried again, "yet know we that ye hear! The
Shining One offers these terms: Send forth your handmaiden and that
lying stranger she stole; send them forth to us--and perhaps ye may
live. But if ye send them not forth, then shall ye too die--and soon!"

We waited, silent, even as did Yolara--and again there was no answer
from the Three.

The priestess laughed; the blue eyes flashed.

"It is ended!" she cried. "If you will not open, needs must we open
for you!"

Over the bridge was marching a long double file of the dwarfs. They
bore a smoothed and handled tree-trunk whose head was knobbed with a
huge ball of metal. Past the priestess, past the Shining One, they
carried it; fifty of them to each side of the ram; and behind them
stepped--Marakinoff!

Larry awoke to life.

"Now, thank God," he rasped, "I can get that devil, anyway!"

He drew his pistol, took careful aim. Even as he pressed the trigger
there rang through the abode a tremendous clanging. The ram was
battering at the gates. O'Keefe's bullet went wild. The Russian must
have heard the shot; perhaps the missile was closer than we knew