* * * *

Thorn reached into his pocket. Kreynborg was regarding the screen
absorbedly. Through the haze of flying dots which was the United
Nations fleet, a darkening spot to westward became visible. It drew
nearer and grew larger. It was dense. It was huge. It was deadly. It
was the Com-Pub battle-fleet, nearly equal to the imprisoned ships in
number. It swept up to view its helpless enemy. It came close, so
every man could see their only possible antagonists rendered impotent.

Such a maneuver was really necessary, when you think of it. The
Com-Pub fleet had encountered one combat-squadron of the United
Nations fleet, and that one squadron, dying, had carried down three
times its number of enemies. It was necessary to show the Com-Pub
personnel the rest of their enemies imprisoned, in order to hearten
them for the butchery of civilians before them.

Kreynborg guffawed as the Com-Pub fleet made its mocking circuit of
the invisible dome. And Thorn raised his head.

"Kreynborg!" he said grimly. "Look!"

There was something in his tone which made Kreynborg turn. And Thorn
held a little forked stick in his hand.

"Turn off the induction-screen, or I kill you!"

Kreynborg looked at him and chuckled.

"It is bluff, my friend," he said dryly. "I haff seen many weapons. I
am a scientist! You play der game of poker. You try a bluff! But I
answer you with der heat-ray!"

He moved his great bulk, and Thorn released his left hand. There was a
sudden crack on Kreynborg's side of the room. A pebble a little over
an inch in diameter fell to the floor. Kreynborg wavered, and toppled
and fell. Three times more, his face merciless, Thorn drew back his
arm, and three times Kreynborg's head jerked slightly. Then Thorn
faced the panel on which the induction-screen switch was placed.
Several times he thrust his hand through the screen and abruptly drew
it back with pain, in an attempt to throw the switch. At last he was
successful, and now he walked calmly across the room and bent over the
motionless Kreynborg.

"Skull fractured," he said grimly. "All right, Sylva."

* * * * *

He went through the narrow doorway beyond, picking up the pocket-gun
as he went. There was a noise of whining machinery. Now Thorn was
emptying pellets into the mechanism that controlled the dome of force.
There was a crashing of glass. It stopped. There were blows and
thumpings. That noise stopped too