"Peter," she whispered, "be ver' careful what you do to-night--keep out of harm if you can. I did not tell you, I have arrange' with Kean that if you are successful, your father, Hulda and I will meet you out in the open country, where your vehicle can pick us up--" An abrupt hush had fallen over the audience. The towering figure of Graff had come to the edge of the platform facing us. Some one had turned a light full upon him; he stood etched in the darkness, a lurid purple figure. A hush. He raised his arms; he was smiling benignly as he regarded the sea of upturned faces beneath him. A very kingly scoundrel! A moment; and then he began to speak. His voice, with its words unintelligible to me, rolled out over the silence. Soft, persuasive, yet powerful. It evidently carried to every far corner of the amphitheater. Sometimes he turned to regard those behind him. Speaking quietly. Then, with a sudden, explosive, thundering statement; then a gentle, persuasive question. All the tricks of the orator! A very kingly scoundrel! He was carrying them. Applause broke out; his gesture was deprecating as he silenced it. I wondered when Kean would return for us. We could easily slip away from father. My thoughts were roaming; Kean ought to come shortly. Now was our chance, with most of the guards here at the meeting. Graff was unconsciously playing into our hands--drawing all the guards away from the grotto to hear him talk. Kean dropped before me! I looked up to meet his white, agitated face. "Peter, don't cry out! Get your father--all of you get out of here!" Something was wrong! I recall that I felt a little tug as the lock of Zetta's hair pulled from my fingers. Just a little tug--I forgot it at once, gazing into Kean's horrified face. "What--" Freddie and Dan were shoving toward us to hear. It made a slight confusion. I repeated, "What--" Half rose to my feet. A shout stiffened me. It came from a small house by the gate, where officials as the crowd assembled had been directing the seating. A shout from there. An official's voice, bellowing. Accents of horror, and command. Kean gasped his news: "The Infra-red Control! The crimson and purple globes--they have been stolen!" The news was already here! The frightened voice from the gate was bellowing it. Graff's voice died away. There was an instant of horrified silence. Kean murmured: "I found the tunnel guards murdered! The controls are gone! These Brauns--" The amphitheater broke into a pandemonium. Shouts; the thump and rattle of scrambling, panic-stricken Garlands. Figures leaping up. The official voice was bellowing. A police guard near me raised a weapon toward the platform where Graff was standing. But he did not fire. The lights up there were suddenly extinguished. A red glow took their place.