with long dangling arms and expressionless metal
face. This inert thing of metal, we had come to regard as almost
human! It stood motionless, with the chilling red gleam from its eye
sockets upon us.

* * * * *

Mary had not once spoken since Tugh entered the room. She was huddled
beside me, a strange, beautiful figure in her long white silk dress.
In the glow of light within this bare metal apartment I could see how
pale and drawn was her beautiful face. But her eyes were gleaming. She
drew me closer to her; whispered into my ear:

"George, I think perhaps I can control this mechanism, Migul."

"How, Mary?"

"I--well, just let me talk to him. George, we've got to get out of
here and warn Larry and that Princess Tina against Tugh. And join
them. It's our only chance; we've got to get out of here now!"

"But Mary--"

"Let me try. I won't startle or anger Migul. Let me."

I nodded. "But be careful."

"Yes."

She sat away from me. "Migul!" she said. "Migul, look here."

The Robot moved its huge square head and raised an arm with a vague
gesture.

"What do you want?"

It advanced, and stood before us, its dangling arms clanking against
its metal sides. In one of its hands the ray-cylinder was clutched,
the wire from which ran loosely up the arm, over the huge shoulder and
into an aperture of the chest plate where the battery was located.

"Closer, Migul."

"I am close enough."

The cylinder was pointed directly at us.

"What do you want?" the Robot repeated.

Mary smiled. "Just to talk to you," she said gently. "To tell you how
foolish you are--a big strong thing like you!--to let Tugh control
you."

CHAPTER XIX

_The Pit in the Dam_

Larry, with Tina and Tugh, stood in the tunnel-corridor beneath the
palace listening to the commotion overhead. Then they rushed up, and
found the palace in a commotion. People were hurrying through the
rooms; gathering with frightened questions. There were men in short
trousers buckled at the knee, silken hose and black silk jackets,
edged with white; others in gaudy colors; older men in sober brown.
There were a few women. Larry noticed that most of them were
beautiful.

A dowager in a long puffed skirt was rushing aimlessly about screaming
that the end of the world had come. A group of young girls,
short-skirted as ballet dancers of a decade or so before Larry's time,
huddled in a corner, frightened beyond speech. There were