near the door. This window
framed another bearded, resolute face. And the eyes in that face were
like saucers as they stared full at Thorn!

For an instant Thorn knew icy fear. His invisibility! Had something
happened to strip him of that concealing mantle? But what _could_ have
happened?

He glanced down at himself and saw the reason for the guard's
saucer-eyed expression.

A little of the light cloud of dust stirred up by the truck wheels had
settled over him and clung to the encasing shell. As he moved, these
dust specks moved. The effect to the staring guard, Thorn realized, must
be that of seeing a queer, fine dust column moving eccentrically over a
grassy lawn where no dust column had any business to be.

* * * * *

Quickly Thorn moved toward the garage, with the eyes of the amazed guard
following him. The scientist was savage at the delay; but it was vital
that he rid himself of that clinging dust.

Behind the garage he broke off a feathery spray from a vine, and stroked
it lightly over himself. That, too, presented a curious spectacle: a
leafy branch suddenly detaching itself from the parent vine and dancing
here and there in mid-air.

When the all-important task was done, Thorn raced back to the rear
doorway. By great good luck it was still open. He stole in, just making
it as the truck driver, staggering under a load of empty crates, came up
the cellar stairs and went out to his truck.

Thorn drew a deep breath. He was inside the Arvanian Embassy. The place
was a three-storied stone trap in which, if the slightest slip revealed
him to its tenants, he would surely meet his death. But, anyway, he was
inside! And the threatening Ziegler plans waited somewhere near at hand
for him to find and take!

Even had Thorn not known in advance that trouble was brewing, he could
have surmised that something sinister was being hatched in the Arvanian
Embassy. For, in this big sunny kitchen five men lounged about in
addition to the white-coated chef and his beardless stripling of an
assistant. And each of the five had a holster strapped openly over his
coat with the butt of an automatic protruding in plain sight.

Thorn looked about. Across from the great range, beside which he was
standing and holding his breath for fear some one of the seven men
should become aware of his presence, was the door leading to the front
part of the house. He started toward that door, walking on tiptoe.