The man who was about to try to conquer our earth! I stood tense, and an awe of which I was secretly ashamed swept me as I gazed at him. A giant fellow, six and a half feet tall, at the very least. Broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, straight and muscular. He wore a tubular leather garment, strapped in at the waist, falling like a short flaring skirt to his bare knees. A short, gaudy jacket over it; shoes with broad, flat heels, and pointed toes, curled up and fastened to his ankles with ornamental metal chains. A heavy metal triangle hung at his chest; chains of gleaming metal hung from his shoulders to his elbows; his muscular forearms were bare, with heavy metal bands at the wrists. A metal band circled his forehead, with the close-clipped white hair under it. A man of perhaps forty years. Deep-set blue eyes; heavy white eyebrows--a beardless face. A strong, handsome face. He was smiling now, but I could see a ruthless determination in the set of his square, cloven jaw, and more than a hint of cruelty in the lines of his thin, firm lips. A swaggering, arrogant fellow. But he was more than that. In his voice, his bearing, I read a consciousness of his own power, a dignity about him, more than a mere arrogant swagger. A kingly scoundrel, contemptuous by instinct of all his fellows. He was saying something to Zetta in his own tongue. She stood before him, gazing calmly up into his face--a child in stature beside his huge bulk. Father said sharply: "Speak in my own language, please! What you can have to say to Zetta need not be secret from us." Graff smiled again--a smile of faintly amused tolerance. "As you please. Zetta, I hear there was an attack made upon you this dawn. A Braun, they say, came to carry you away." His voice was very gentle; hate rose in me for the gentleness of it--the calm dignity of his regard. "Yes," she said. "I want you to know, Zetta, I was not concern in that. Do you believe me?" She hesitated. "I think so." "I want you to think so, for I was not concern in it. I would not harm you. That you know?" "Yes," she said. "That is all. Excep'--Zetta, I am to-morrow going to earth--I want to conquer it for you--I want all its riches and its pleasures to be for you. Won't you come with me? You are master of yourself by the laws here. This earthman, who thinks to control you--" "Enough!" interrupted father. "She doesn't want to hear that kind of talk, Graff." [Illustration: "Zetta does not want to hear your kind of talk, Graff!"] The gentleness faded from his voice. "I speak with her, not you. Let her answer." Zetta burst out: "What you plan to do on earth is wrong, Graff! If you think to please me, stay here! Stay here on Xenephrene--" He interrupted her gently: "You are misled, Zetta. You live with earth people--they mislead you. Zetta, will you come with me--" "No," she said.