he sun, it would be only
natural for them to develop weapons that utilized its rays."

"Then the tubes and the fliers cannot operate at night?"

"Yes, because then they receive the reflected waves from the diskoids
that are stationed out in space, in eternal sunlight."

Hilary considered this a moment.

"Where do you think it possible Joan was taken?" he changed the
subject abruptly.

"It is hard to say," Grim answered slowly. "But your best chance would
be with the Viceroy himself. There have been rumors--when pretty girls
disappear."

Hilary's jaw set hard.

"I think I'll interview His Mercutian Magnificence," he said. "Where
are his quarters?"

"The Robbins Building."

"Good Lord, that's Joan's...." So that was why Joan was up in the
Bronxville suburb. "What happened to her father, Martin Robbins?"

"Executed after the revolt," Wat interposed. "Your girl must have
escaped, otherwise she'd have been treated then like the other girls
whose relatives had fought."

Hilary smiled unaccountably, the first smile since Joan had been
taken. He knew the Robbins Building well; he had been a frequent
visitor there in the old days. There were surprises in store for His
Nibs the Mercutian....

CHAPTER VI

_Mutterings of Revolt_

The next morning, as dawn burst over the mountain tops, he started on
his perilous mission. But no one who knew Hilary Grendon would have
recognized him in the meek, shambling, slightly bent Earth slave who
climbed the last rung of the rope ladder out of the hidden gorge.

He had changed his clothes for an old, space-worn suit that one of his
former comrades could never have any further use for. The skilful
application of wood ash and powdered charcoal to the hollows around
the eyes, the pits beneath the cheekbones, gave him a gaunt, careworn
appearance, suitable to an Earthman too brow-beaten to dream of
defying his overlords.

Wat, who had artistically applied the make-up, viewed his handiwork
with admiration. "You'll do," he grinned. "The way you look, even a
little fellow like me would be perfectly safe in spitting upon you."

Before he went, he explained the mechanism of the _Vagabond_
thoroughly to his friends. Finally they nodded; they would know how to
work the controls.

There was the question of weapons. The captured sun-tube was out of
the question; it could not be secreted beneath the dark-blue blouse.
Hilary fondled his automatic wistfully.

"If only I had so