clanged shut. The guard did not pay particular attention to Bram Forest: he had been a docile enough prisoner. Ylia, he thought. He knew he must escape next time the guard brought food. Dr. Slonamn held up the bracelet with the metal disc on it and stared curiously at the contraption. He was a psychologist, he could hardly consider himself an expert on metallurgy. Still, he had never seen a metal like that from which the disc had been fashioned. It seemed too opaque for steel, too hard for silver. A steel and silver alloy, then? But he had never heard of a steel and silver alloy.He held it up to the light. Like a fly's many-faceted eye it threw back manifold images of--himself. Somehow, it made him dizzy to gaze at the images. He drew his eyes away and had an impulse to fling the strange disc away across the room. The sun was going down. He heard a clattering from the prison kitchen as the evening meal was prepared. Tomorrow, he thought, should see the completion of his work here. Another interview with the paranoid giant who had brought the disc, perhaps. The disc fascinated him. He looked at it again. He didn't want to, and recognized the strange compulsion within himself. Then, before he quite realized it, he was staring at his multiple image again. His senses swam. There was a far-away rustling sound like--the words came unbidden to his mind from a poem by Kipling--like the wind that blows between the worlds. He gazed again at the disc. It seemed to draw him, as a magnet draws iron filings. Now he wanted to fight it, wanted to fight with every ounce of his strength. A wave of giddiness swept over him, leaving nausea in its wake. He clutched at the prison-office desk for support. The rustling grew louder. He saw--or thought he saw--a girl, a lovely, sun-bronzed girl. There was a look of fear on her face. She seemed to be crying out for help. An abyss yawned before his feet, before his very soul. He longed despite himself to plunge into the abyss, whatever the fearful consequences might be. He lurched back, fighting the longing. Yet he knew he wouldn't win. He took a step forward.... "Give it to me!" The voice, urgent, distant, beckoned him back to reality. It seemed a great distance off, but it was something to which he could hold. "Give me that disc!" He felt himself dragged roughly back, saw the abyss retreating. The rustling of the wind between the worlds became