Browne flicked over a switch marked _Lock 1st Fl_ as he rose and went
into the living room. We followed him warily.
* * * * *
The alien glanced back at the closed door with a trace of annoyance on
his broad features; then regarded us imperturbably as we advanced.
"Mr. Fitzgerald and Mr. Rainford," he said flatly. "Well, this is a
surprise!"
He didn't sound sincere.
"Have a seat," Browne said, waving a big hand toward _the_ chair.
The alien shook his head negatively.
Browne gave Fitzgerald and me a quick glance, inclining his head
forward. We promptly accelerated our advance.
"Look," Browne said, his dark face intense, "we know you're not what
you pretend to be. We know you're not of our country, not of our world,
not even of our solar system. _Sit down in that chair!_"
He lunged forward, grasping with his big hands, as we leaped at the
alien from either flank.
The alien didn't just move--he _streaked_, shooting between Browne and
Fitzgerald, heading unerringly toward the open passenger shaft--into it!
Browne leaped to a console and punched the roof-lock button. A split
second later we heard a riveting machine burst of what was obviously
Centaurian profanity coming down the shaft as the alien found the
exit closed. Browne's fingers darted on the console, locking all the
upstairs windows.
"Browne," I said, "what good will that do? If we do manage to corner
him, just how long do you think we can stand up against him? With his
speed he could evade us until doomsday, to say nothing about beating
our brains out while we tried to land one, solid punch!"