r had departed.

"They're not in there," he said unsteadily. "Elza--you go outside with
father.... They must be around somewhere, Jac. Come, look."

There was a rustle behind us. Arms came around me, pinning me. I heard
Elza scream, saw Georg fighting two dark forms which had leaped upon
him.

I was flung to the ground, but I fought--three men, it seemed to be, who
were upon me. Then Georg's voice:

"Jac! Stop--they'll kill you."

I yielded suddenly, and my assailants jerked me to my feet. A group of
Venus men were surrounding us. Georg, his jacket torn to ribbons, was
backed up against the wall with three or four Venus men holding him.

And on the floor nearby Dr. Brende lay prone, with a crimson stain
spreading on his white ruffled shirt, and Elza sobbing over him.

CHAPTER V

_Outlawed Flight_

Dr. Brende was dead. We knew it in the moment that followed our sudden
assault and capture. Elza knelt there sobbing. Then she stood up, her
tears checked; and on her face a look of pathetic determination to
repress her grief. Now that we had yielded, the Venus men, searching us
for our weapons, cast us loose. We bent over Dr. Brende, Georg and I.
Dead. No power in this universe could bring him back to us.

Georg pressed his lips tightly together. His face, red from the exertion
of his fight, went pale. But he showed no other emotion. And, as he
leaned toward me, he whispered:

"Got us, Jac! Say nothing. Don't put up any show of fight."

Elza now was standing against the wall, a hand before her eyes. I went
to her.

"Elza, dear----"

Her hand pressed mine.

Our captors stood curiously watching us. There seemed to be at least ten
of them--men as tall as myself, though not so tall as Georg. Swarthy,
gray-skinned fellows--one or two of them squat, ape-like with their
heavy shoulders and dangling arms. Men of the Venus Cold Country. They
were talking together in their queer, soft language. One of them I took
to be the leader. Argo was his name, I afterward learned. He was
somewhat taller than the rest, and slim. A man perhaps thirty. Paler of
skin than most of his companions--gray skin with a bronze cast. Dressed
like the others in fur. But his heavy jacket was open, disclosing a
ruffled white shirt, with a low black stock about his throat.

A shifty-eyed fellow, this Argo. Smooth-shaven, with a mouth
slack-lipped, and small black eyes. But his features were finely
chiseled; and with that bronze cast t