ge blocks of stone were shifting, tottering; and they began
to fall through the glare of mounting flames and the thick black smoke.

[Footnote 10: A cement or mortar used in stone constructions--evidently
partially combustible.]

Georg had tossed away his now useless weapon--emptied of its charge. He
was crouching in the shadow of a parapet. The city was now in turmoil.
Alarm lights everywhere. The shrilling of sirens; roaring of megaphoned
commands ... women screaming hysterically....

A chaos, out of which, for a few moments, Georg knew no order could
come. But his heart was in his mouth. The Princess Maida, within that
burning building....

He had located the tiny postern gate at the bottom of the tower where
Wolfgar had told him she would appear. The barrage was gone; and in a
moment she came--a white figure appearing there amid the smoke that was
rolling out.

He rushed to her. A figure wholly encased in white _itan_[11] fabric
with head-mask, and tubes from its generator to supply her with air.
Wolfgar had smuggled the equipment in to her for just this emergency.
She stood awkwardly beside Georg--a grotesque figure hampered by the
heavy costume. Its crescent panes of _itanoid_ begoggled her.

[Footnote 11: A universal insulating fabric, as rubber insulates
electricity and asbestos bars heat.]

Behind him, Georg could hear people advancing. A guard picked them out
with a white flash. The mounting flames of the tower bathed everything
in red. A block of stone fell near at hand, crashing through the
metallic platform upon which they were standing. Broken, it sagged
beneath their feet.

Georg tore at the girl's head-piece, lifted it off. Her face was pale,
frightened, yet she seemed calm. Her glorious white hair tumbled down in
waves over her shoulders.

"Wolfgar--he----" She choked a little in the smoke that swirled around
them. Georg cut in: "He sent me--Georg Brende. Don't talk now--get this
off."

He pulled the heavy costume from her. She emerged from it--slim and
beautiful in the shimmering blue kirtle, with long grey stockings
beneath.

A spider incline was nearby. But a dozen guards were coming up it at a
run. With the girl's hand in his, Georg turned the other way. People
were closing in all around them--an excited crowd held back by the heat
of the burning tower, the smoke and the falling blocks of stone. Someone
swung a pencil-ray wildly. It seared Georg like a branding-iron on the
flesh of hi