last
move, he well knew. He was sick with chagrin to see how easily they had
been trapped; Walt had tried to play fair with a man who had not an atom
of fairness in his character. And now--

"Seven to three!" Schwartzmann was gloating--till another voice broke
in.

"I don't check your figures." The whistling tones were coming from a
tortured throat, but the words were clear and distinct. "I don't check
you; I make it six to four--and if one of your men makes a move, Herr
Schwartzmann, I shall blow you to a pulp!"

And Herr Doktor Kreiss held a gun in a steady hand as he moved a pace
nearer to Chet--a gun whose slender barrel made a glinting line of light
toward Schwartzmann's eyes.

"If the gentlemen and Mademoiselle will permit," he offered almost
diffidently, "I would prefer to be aligned with them. We are citizens of
another world now; my former allegiance to Herr Schwartzmann is ended.
This is--what is it you say?--a new deal. I would like to see it; and I
use another of your American aphorisms: I would like to see it a square
deal."

* * * * *

The voice of a scholar, thought Chet; one more used to the precision of
laboratory phrases than to wild talk like this; but no man to be trifled
with, nevertheless. Chet did not hesitate to turn despite the pistols
that were still aimed at him.

But Herr Kreiss was not looking in his direction; his eyes were trained
steadily in the same line as his gun. This little experiment he was
conducting seemed to require his undivided attention until the end. To
Schwartzmann he said sharply:

"Your men--order them to drop their weapons. Quick!"

As they clattered upon the floor the scientist turned and extended his
hand to Chet.

"And still speaking not too technically," he continued, "this is one
hell of a fix that you have got us into. Even in desperate straits it
took nerve to do that." He pointed to the shattered remains of the
multiple bars that had been the control mechanism, and added:

"I admire that kind of nerve. And, if you don't mind, since we are
exiles together--" His throat seemed choking him again.

There were weapons in the hands of Chet and Harkness; they were not
making the same mistake twice. Chet shifted his gun to his left hand
that he might reach toward the scientist with his right.

"I knew you were white all the time," Chet told him; "I'll say you
belong!"

CHAPTER VII

_The Red Swarm_

It was a mat