men come here. Storm or no storm we shall have to get to the broken city, and get those Venus-weapons."

"How far is it from here to Shan?" Jim put in.

"Twenty Earth-miles perhaps," old Prytan stammered. "If Curtmann and his men should start now—"

"Maybe they won't," I said. "The storm is still going strong."

"Where is Venta?" Prytan stared helplessly about the room. "She said she would bring us food. What use of that? We have no time to eat it now." He suddenly raised his shaking old voice. "Venta. Venta, where are you?"

There was no answer from the nearby interior door-oval through which Venta had gone. Just blank, stark silence. Horror struck at me.

Jim and I were on our feet. Jim gasped, "I'll go see." But before he could move, we heard a woman's moan, followed again by silence!

Jim broke it with an oath. I tossed little Meeta into the air with a flip of my hand as I ran toward the crude kitchen, out there beyond the dim door-oval.

Thank God, it was not Venta. On the packed loam of the floor an old serving woman lay sprawled. Her throat was a ghastly welter of crimson, and near her a Midge lay dead.

The old woman was still alive. She tried faintly to gasp in English as I bent over her.

"He—took her—Venta—"

"Who took her?"

"Jahnt—he—"

The blood choked her. But I had no interest in hearing more. Jahnt!

"Why—he's got the secret of those weapons now!" Jim gasped. "Get the idea, Art?"

The commotion had brought others. They all stood milling, helpless, frightened. Jim and I shoved them away.

"He'd probably head for the broken city," Jim said. "It's much closer to here."

"That he might do," Prytan agreed. "And where is his Midge—you people—you have seen little Ort lately?"

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