between them. Come on; lie down and go
bye-bye."

Clio laughed at the simile, but lay down obediently. Costigan sat upon
the edge of the great divan holding her hand, and they chatted idly. The
silences grew longer, Clio's remarks became fewer, and soon her
long-lashed eyelids fell and her deep, regular breathing showed that she
was sound asleep. The man stared at her, his very heart in his eyes. So
young, so beautiful, so lovely--and _how_ he did love her! He was not
formally religious, but his every thought was a prayer. If he could only
get her out of this mess ... he wasn't fit to live on the same planet
with her, but ... just give him one chance, God ... just one!

But Costigan had been laboring for days under a terrific strain, and had
been going very short on sleep. Half hypnotized by his own mixed
emotions and by his staring at the smooth curves of Clio's cheek, his
own eyes closed and, still holding her hand, he sank down into the soft
cushions beside her and into oblivion.

Thus sleeping hand in hand like two children Bradley found them, and a
tender, fatherly expression came over his face as he looked down at
them.

"Nice little girl, Clio," he mused, "and when they made Costigan they
broke the mold. They'll do--about as fine a couple of kids as old Tellus
ever produced. I could do with some more sleep myself." He yawned
prodigiously, lay down at Clio's left, and in minutes was himself
asleep.

Hours later, both men were awakened by a merry peal of laughter. Clio
was sitting up, regarding them with sparkling eyes. She was refreshed,
buoyant, ravenously hungry and highly amused. Costigan was amazed and
annoyed at what he considered a failure in a self-appointed task;
Bradley was calm and matter-of-fact.

"Thanks for being such a nice body-guard, you two." Clio laughed again,
but sobered quickly. "I slept wonderfully well, but I wonder if I can
sleep tonight without making you hold my hand all night?"

"Oh, he doesn't mind doing that," Bradley commented.

"Mind it!" Costigan exclaimed, and his eyes and his tone spoke volumes.

They prepared and ate another meal, one to which Clio did full justice.
Rested and refreshed, they had begun to discuss possibilities of escape
when Nerado and his three armed guards entered the room. The Nevian
scientist placed a box upon a table and began to make adjustments upon
its panels, eyeing the Terrestrials attentively after each setting.
After a time a staccato burst