ed Davis. Newspaperman from Montreal I must see Mr.
Rascor."

"You cannot. You may send in your call. The mouthpiece is there--out
there to the left. Bare your face; he talks to no one without the face
image."

The guard had drawn back into his cubby; there was only his extended
hand and the muzzle of his weapon left visible.

I took a step forward. "I don't want to talk by phone. Won't you open
the gate? It's cold out here. We have important business. We'll wait
with you."

Abruptly the gate lattice slid aside. Beyond the cubby doorway was the
open darkness within the wall. A scuffed path leading inward from the
gate showed for a few feet.

I walked over the threshold, with Alan crowding me. The Essen in my coat
pocket was leveled. But from the cubby doorway, I saw that the guard was
gone! Then I saw him crouching behind a metal shield. His voice rang
out.

"Stand!"

A light struck my face--a thin beam from a television sender beside me.
It all happened in an instant, so quickly Alan and I had barely time to
make a move. I realized my image was now doubtless being presented to
Polter. He would recognize me!

I ducked my head, yelling, "Don't do that!"

It was too late! The guard had received a signal. I heard its buzz.

From the shield a tiny jet of fluid leapt at me. It struck my hood.
There was a heavy sickening-sweet smell. It seemed like chloroform. I
felt my senses going. The cubby room was turning dark, was roaring.

I think I fired at the shield. And Alan leapt aside. I heard the faint
hiss of his Essen, and his choked, horrified voice:

"George, run! Don't fall!"

I crumpled; slid into blackness. And it seemed, as I went down, that
Alan's inert body was falling on top of me....

* * * * *

I recovered after a nameless interval, a phantasmagoria of wild, drugged
dreams. My senses came slowly. At first, there were dim muffled voices
and the tread of footsteps. Then I knew that I was lying on the ground,
and that I was indoors. It was warm. My overcoat was off. Then I
realized that I was bound and gagged.

I opened my eyes. Alan was lying inert beside me, roped and with a black
gag around his face and in his mouth. We were in a huge dim open space.
Presently, as my vision cleared, I saw that the dome was overhead. This
was a circular, hundred-foot-wide room. It was dimly lighted. The
figures of men were moving about, their great misshapen shadows shifting
with t