s the most cautious of half-whispers.

Abruptly someone reached for my chest; jerked at the electrode; tore
its fragile wires--the tiny grids and thumbnail amplifiers; jerked and
ripped and flung the whole little apparatus to the garden path. But it
sang its warning note as the wires broke. Up in Great New York Hanley
knew then that catastrophe had fallen upon me.

For a brief instant the crestfallen bandit mumbled at what he had
done. Then came Spawn's voice:

"Got him, De Boer? Good!"

Triumphant Spawn! He advanced across the garden with his heavy tread.
And to me, and I am sure to De Boer as well, there came the swift
realization that Spawn had been hiding safely in the background. But
my detector was smashed now. It might have imaged De Boer assailing
me: but now that it was smashed, Spawn could act freely.

"Good! So you have him! Make away to the mine!"

I did not see De Boer's face at that instant. But I saw his weapon
come up--an act wholly impulsive, no doubt. A flash of fury!

He levelled the projector, not at me, but at the on-coming Spawn.

"You damn liar!"

"De Boer--" It was a scream of terror from Spawn. But it came too
late. The projector hissed; spat its tiny blue puff. The needle
drilled Spawn through the heart. He toppled, flung up his arms, and
went down, silently, to sprawl on his face across the garden path.

* * * * *

De Boer was cursing, startled at his own action. The men holding me
tightened their grip. I heard Jetta cry out, but not at what had
happened in the garden: she was unaware of that. One of the bandits
had left the group and climbed into her room. Her cry now was
suppressed, as though the man's hand went over her mouth. And in the
silence came his mumbled voice:

"Shut up, you!"

There was the sound of a scuffle in there. I tore at the men holding
me.

"Let me go! Jetta! Come out!"

De Boer dashed for the window. I was still struggling. A hand cuffed
me in the face. A projector rammed into my side.

"Stop it, fool American!"

De Boer came back with a chastened bandit ahead of him. The man was
muttering and rubbing his shoulder, and De Boer said:

"Try anything like that again, Cartner, and I won't be so easy on
you."

De Boer was dragging Jetta, holding her by a wrist. She looked like a
terrified, half-grown boy, so small was she beside this giant. But the
woman's lines of her, and the long dark hair streaming about her white
f