Zetta now was at my side, holding one of my hands, trying to draw me on. Miles of this; it seemed hours. A guard from the bank appeared suddenly over our heads. He called softly. Zetta answered. She leaped up and stood beside him; spoke to him; held his attention. I crept up through the gloom, lunged with the knife. He fell. The barrage line at last was before us; its red glow bathed the bottom of the river bed. Zetta stopped me. "You mus' get your breath, Peter. Then, run fas'. We will be through it in a few minutes. Oh, Peter, you go so slowly!" "You run ahead," I told her. "Get through as fast as you can--then wait for me." We were adjusting our glasses, strapping on the ear-grids. "Zetta, where did you get these?" "From Brea!" The red illumination showed her faint, ironical smile. "We have been planning it for a long time. She was afraid again to try and kill me. But she wants that I never see Graff again. Jealous--and so she has help' us escape. I did not tell her--naturally not--that we would try for the Control house." "And me? Why help me escape?" "You, Peter--I tol' her you love me. If she help you escape, then you would marry me. You see? Brea wants that--then I will be los' to Graff forever. So she waited a chance and steal these things--" * * * * * My arms went around her. What a time for love-making! But my emotion took no account of the time. "Marry you, Zetta? Oh, if you will let me! You said 'I am not pledged to you yet, Peter!'" Those words of hers had been like a weight on my heart; a weight which I wanted now to dispel forever. I held her close. "Zetta, you love me--" She pushed me away; more rational always than I. "That I said--because then the sacrifice to Graff might have been necessary." "But now--it isn't?" "No. Not now. Peter--come--run fas'." At the edge of the barrage a guard was standing on the river bank. He flung a tiny white beam down on us. Zetta called up to him, tried to lure him down. But abruptly he shouted an alarm. From across the river another figure came in a leap, sailing over our heads. We ducked into a hole; above us the two guards stood consulting. "Zetta, call again! Talk to them--I'll climb up." I got behind them on top of the bank. I could hear Zetta calling up something about Graff. I lunged at them. One stabbed at me with a short purple flame; but it missed, or my black garments killed it. I struck into them as they stood together; struck with my knife and flailing arms. I could feel their flimsy bodies crack. They sank at my feet. There seemed no general alarm given; these two guards doubtless were the only ones within hearing at this section of the line. We went through the barrage. Running. With the glasses on, it was all the dead gray of night, and soundless. But I could feel it plucking at me; once I got the impression I was almost wading through it, fighting it. A panic of fear seized me; I laughed to ward it off.