Then Bryan saw the crystal globe being lifted still higher--toward his
face. Behind it the girl's large exotic eyes seemed very intent. Within
the globe the pulsing of the pale rose core quickened.
Bryan felt something draw at him. A strange force--like insistent
hands. Hands immaterial and yet tangible, that reached into him ... and
pulled.
It was not a physical sensation. Nor was it purely mental. It was
something that went beyond even this--something that gripped at the
very foundation of being.
Bryan felt himself being drawn. And he did not understand. There was a
purpose here and a means he could not grasp.
He resisted.
In a moment the force left him.
The globe lowered. Over it the girl peered at him, startled, perplexed.
And from the background came a piping despair.
"Failed.... It has failed...."
"He has a strength I have not met before." An echo of that other
despair lay in the silver chiming. And an overtone of awe. "He cannot
be taken--and that is strange. He has qualities I cannot quite explain.
But his will is great--great enough, I think, to penetrate the veil
unaided."
"He cannot be taken...." The piping again, sorrowfully resigned.
Bryan was aware of the girl's eyes on him. The wistfulness in them
seemed to have grown. And from some deep recess within him rose a
sudden queer aching.
"Farewell...."
Farewell? Protest surged in him. He struggled to make a detaining
gesture--but it was futile. She turned away.
* * * * *
The hovering winged shapes followed her. Moving swiftly and lightly,
she went toward the pavilion, before which the statuesque man stood
beside the prone figure of the unconscious girl.
She lifted the globe to the man ... its inner pulsing quickened. A
radiance grew in it, as though some energy were being absorbed. The
pulsing was very rapid now--triumphant.
Then the girl turned, hurrying back to the giant bird, which was
waiting nearby. Behind her, even as she turned, the man swayed--fell.
He fell loosely, emptily, his eyes open.
The girl leaped to the bird's back. In another moment it sprang
into the air, huge wings beating. Higher it lifted, and higher. The
mosquito-men followed. All soared beyond Bryan's range of vision, and
the beating of wings faded ... died.
Slowly the paralysis left Bryan. He flexed his limbs stiffly. His
muscles ached, as though from cramp.
He went over to the sprawled figures of the man and the girl, then. The
man had the same terrible unresponsive limpness as the man Bryan had
seen at the hospital. He was beyond any aid Bryan could give.
Bryan turned his attention to the girl in an effort to quicken her
return to consciousness. Shortly her eyes opened--then flared with
recollection. She glanced swiftly about her, fright twisting at her
face.
In the next instant she saw her fallen escort and seemed to realize for
the first time that Bryan was a stranger. She went quickly to the other
man and lifted his head.
"Tom!" she cried. "Tom! What is the matter?" Horror grew in her voice.
"Why don't you answer me?"
Empty eyes that looked sightlessly into the night. Slack gaping lips
that did not move.
The girl turned to Bryan with an expression of bewildered grief.
"How ... how did this terrible thing happen?"
Bryan hesitated. What he had experienced now seemed too wildly
improbable to discuss. The very improbability of it could only add to
the girl's suffering. And for a reason he did not fully understand
he wanted to keep to himself the knowledge of that strangely lovely
apparition whose name, it appeared, was Leeta.