helmeted shape that leaped forward. 'He is a little faint.'
The lights switched off, and the darkness stunned like an avalanche. We could hear Dragomiroff's teeth on the glass edge.
Pirolo was comforting him.
'All right, all ra-ight,' he repeated. 'Come and lie down. Come below and take off your mask. I give you my word, old friend, it is all right. They are my siege-lights. Little Victor Pirolo's leetle lights. You know me! I do not hurt people.'
'Pardon!' Dragomiroff moaned. 'I have never seen Death. I have never seen the Board take action. Shall we go down and burn them alive, or is that already done?'
'Oh, hush,' said Pirolo, and I think he rocked him in his arms.
'Do we repeat, sir?' Arnott asked De Forest.
'Give 'em a minute's break,' De Forest replied. 'They may need it.'
We waited a minute, and then MacDonough's Song, broken but defiant, rose from undefeated Chicago.
'They seem fond of that tune,' said De Forest. 'I should let 'em have it, Arnott.'
'Very good, sir,' said Arnott, and felt his way to the Communicator keys.
No lights broke forth, but the hollow of the skies made herself the mouth for one note that touched the raw fibre of the brain. Men hear such sounds in delirium, advancing like tides from horizons beyond the ruled foreshores of space.
