ere no others of his own kind about.

Dillon turned his back. He gave orders in the barbarous dialect of the
mountains. His voice was authoritative. Men obeyed him and dragged
uniformed figures out of a light half-track that was plainly a staff
car. Dillon beckoned, and Coburn moved toward him. The important thing
as far as Coburn was concerned was to get Janice to safety. Then to
report the full event.

* * * * *

"I ... I'm not sure ..." began Janice, her voice shaking.

"I'll prove what I said," raged Coburn in a low tone. "I'm not crazy,
though I feel like it!"

Dillon beckoned again. Janice slipped off the donkey's back. She looked
pitifully frightened and irresolute.

"I've located the chap who's the mayor of this village, or something
like that. Take him along. They might not believe you, but they'll have
to investigate when he turns up."

A white-bearded villager reluctantly climbed into the back of the car.
Dillon pleasantly offered to assist Janice into the front seat. She
climbed in, deathly white, frightened of Coburn and almost ashamed to
admit that his vehement outburst had made her afraid of Dillon, too.

Dillon came around to Coburn's side of the vehicle. "Privately," he said
with a confidential air, "I'd advise you to dump this mayor person where
he can reach authority, and then go away quietly and say nothing of what
happened up here. If the Greeks are using some contrivance that handles
an affair like this, it will be top secret. They won't like civilians
knowing about it."

Coburn's grip on his revolver was savage. It seemed likely, now, that
Dillon was the only one of his extraordinary kind about.

"I think I know why you say that," he said harshly.

Dillon smiled. "Oh, come now!" he protested. "I'm quite unofficial!"

He was incredibly convincing at that moment. There was a wry half-smile
on his face. He looked absolutely human; absolutely like the British
correspondent Coburn had met in Salonika. He was too convincing. Coburn
knew he would suspect his own sanity unless he made sure.

"You're not only unofficial," said Coburn grimly. His hand came up over
the edge of the staff-car door. It had his revolver in it. It bore
inexorably upon the very middle of Dillon's body. "You're not human,
either! You're not a man! Your name isn't Dillon! You're--something I
haven't a word for! But if you try anything fancy I'll see if a bullet
through your middle will s