n could not stay there. Lying flat along the baseboard, he would be
stabbed at any instant by an inquiring sword point.

The six spread a little. A very little. But there was room enough for
Thorn to slide between the two men nearest him and roll soundlessly
under the table.

There was no sanctuary for him there. The cursed Kori, with his hawk
eyes, glanced under the table after stabbing vainly along the wall.

"The carpet!" he bellowed. "See how the nap is pressed down! He is under
there, comrades!"

The thrusting swords raked under the table a half second or so after
Thorn had rolled out the other side, upsetting a chair in his hurry.

"After him!" panted Soyo. "By the living God, this is wizardry! But he
must not get away--"

"He won't!" snapped the elderly leader. "Men, form a line at the far end
of the room and march slowly, shoulder to shoulder, to this end. The spy
must be caught!"

* * * * *

The move was executed. All the men in the room, save the four guarding
the doors, lined up and advanced slowly, swerving and slashing their
swords. Like a line of workers hand-harvesting a wheat field they
came--foot by foot toward the corner where Thorn turned this way and
that in a vain effort to escape.

The line reached the table. Over and under and around it the swords
slashed viciously, leaving no space unprobed.

Thorn clenched his fists. He gazed at the packet containing the Ziegler
plans. He gazed at the guarded door leading back to the kitchen. Then he
tensed himself and leaped.

"The plans!" shouted Kori hoarsely. "Look--"

The vital packet, as far as the eye could see, had suddenly grown wings,
soared from the table top, and was floating rapidly, convulsively,
toward the door.

"Stop him!" yelled Soyo. "Stop--"

At that instant the heads of the two who guarded the door were dashed
together. The door itself slammed open. The Ziegler plans sped into the
butler's pantry.

The door to the kitchen began to open just as Kori reached the pantry.
An oath burst from the Arvanian's lips. He flung his sword. In the air,
shoulder high, appeared suddenly a small fountain of blood. Kori yelled
triumphantly.

Thorn, feeling the warm drip following the glancing slash in his
shoulder, knew the veil of invisibility had at last been rent.
Abandoning efforts at noiselessness, knowing that his whereabouts was
constantly marked by the packet in his hand, anyway, he fled through the