Father left us and ran down the staircase from the roof, but we did not heed his going. Then from the window a man's body was tumbled out. The grotesque forms of two great insects showed there; they were in the room, pushing the man through the window. He fell lightly to the ground; lay huddled, writhing in a heap. From the window they leaped down after him. A thing with brown spreading wings came sailing down from the foliage; a dozen others were leaping from unseen places. Zetta appeared at the window. Zetta, unharmed. She gazed down but behind her, father appeared and drew her back into the room. On the ground a score of the insect guards were writhing, scratching, pawing over the body of Zetta's assailant. One scuttled away with a fragment, and two others chased it. "It's perfectly clear to me," said father. "Kean, this blackguard Graff tried to abduct Zetta. What will your government say to that, when I tell them this morning? Are we to have these Brauns committing crimes right here in Garla?" We were all in father's living room, half an hour after the attack on Zetta. Kean had come; he stood now before us respectfully listening to father's indignant words. He was a slim young fellow, as short as Freddie and as slender; a smooth, white-skinned youth, in leather, sleeveless jacket and short, wide-flaring leather trousers. Bareheaded, his thick, white hair hung long to his ears, with a thong binding it about his forehead. His face was pleasant, with a delicacy of cast suggesting girlishness, but his mouth was wide and firm-lipped, his chin strong and thoroughly masculine. I liked him at once, this Kean. He smiled at us and shook our hands. He spoke English, like Zetta, with that quaint, clipped accent. Zetta had not been hurt. She had been awakened by an intruder at her window. An insect guard evidently had followed him in, had attacked him. The rest we witnessed. "Who was he?" Kean demanded. She shook her head. "I do not know." Father said: "You never saw him before?" "No, never. I think not." "A Braun?" "Oh, yes." Kean gestured. "If we had him, we could tell--" "He is--gone now," said Zetta. I shuddered at the memory. Gone indeed! Father repeated: "Graff evidently sent him to abduct her. Is the government going to do nothing--" "They would want proof," said Kean quietly. "I was thinking--Zetta, was he trying to get you away, or--" "Or what?" Hulda demanded. "Or kill her. I was thinking--it might not be Graff who sent him." He waved away his words. "It would be a very serious problem--other days. But not now--there is too much else." It struck me that Zetta's face bore a queer expression. She said suddenly: "I will tell you the truth."