First he had made certain adjustments in the mechanism of his apparatus--which fortunately had not been injured by its forced landing--and then he had taken off with specimens of the treasure, bringing the craft down this time with precision in the midst of his ancestral estates near Baku, in the foothills of the Caucasus Mountains. This vast property the Bolsheviks had not confiscated, partly because of its remoteness, no doubt, and partly because of the prince's services to the Soviet Republic. At any rate, it was here he had developed in secret the details of his amazing plot--a plot that had as its aim not only his own enrichment but the rehabilitation of all the Russian nobles. Once they had heard his story of the Diamond Thunderbolt and seen the specimens he showed them, many had eagerly joined the plot, with the result that an international ring had been formed for disposal of the gems. His plans perfected, Prince Krassnov had then returned to Kinchinjunga with his rocket, since when the mysterious flood of those perfect diamonds into the jewel markets of the world had begun. "So you see, my friends," he smiled, "that is what you Americans would call my 'little game'--a game your chance discovery has rather jeopardized, you must admit." Professor Prescott could well realize this, but at a glance from Stoddard he declined to admit it. "A very ingenious game!" he said. "But where do the Lamas figure in this? Surely they must know of the presence of this meteor within their kingdom." "No doubt they do," the prince conceded. "This is why they are so reluctant to have foreigners enter their domain. At one time, I am satisfied, they knew its exact location and drew many of their own gems from that source. But in recent times the snow people have guarded their secret well. The Lamas are as terrified of them as the natives--and with better reason!" He did not mention what the reason was, but there was something ominous in his tone. * * * * * "But to get on with my story, friends. I am not telling you all this merely to satisfy your curiosity. I have what you call a motive in my madness!" Madness was right, thought Stoddard. The man was dangerously, criminally mad. "My motive is simply this," he went on. "You have chanced upon my little nest-egg, and consequently I have either to let you in on the deal or--" Krassnov paused; shrugged. "But why talk of anything unpleasant, when there is wealth enough here for all? What I propose, briefly, is that you join me." They knew it was coming, but they winced, nevertheless.