water. Now we are all Tantaluses."

The iron-gray individual who was the chief of the secret service, ran his tongue around in his dry mouth.

"You did this?" he said huskily.

"Yes," said Olduk.

The man took a paper off his desk, unfolded it in front of Olduk's eyes.

Olduk read the headline emotionlessly:

WORLD IN TURMOIL; DRINKING IMPOSSIBLE

"I did that, yes," said Olduk quietly. "Many people will die. Tantalus, yes? But there is a Tantalus on Mars, too."

The iron-gray man struck him harshly across the mouth.

"How did you do it?" he rasped.

"A water-tight ship lies buried ten miles beneath the surface of the Atlantic Ocean. A simple radio signal started the mechanism that eventually released the force."

"What force?"

"The force that will make it impossible for people of Earth to drink, honorable sir."

"What signal will make the mechanism stop?" Again Olduk was struck across the face, harshly, brutally. A thin yellow ichor started to run down Olduk's impassive face.

"The signal is known only to my people on Mars. Thus it was arranged."

"You're a liar, Olduk!"

The man lit a cigar, and while the Speaker turned away, sickened, he brought it closer to Olduk, meanwhile talking rapidly.

"Liners are stranded in the ocean, unable to move. Their passengers can't drink. The power house at Niagara is useless; the water comes over the falls in drops as big as houses. People are beginning to suffer from thirst. I know a Martian named Olduk who's going to burn alive if he doesn't tell us how to stop the mechanism."

The cigar contacted, lingered. There was a sulphurous odor.

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