"Oh, don't be premature!" he exclaimed, a little nettled. "Hear me out. What is good enough for me and my fellow nobles of Imperial Russia is surely good enough for poor, under-paid professors of democratic America. Listen, friends--I am generous. Join me and we will make millionaires out of all of you. Every professor in your country shall be a little czar. It will be, to use the old phrase, a triumph of the intellect." Beyond a doubt, the man was mad; yet his madness was vast, dizzying. Though neither was tempted, they were both rendered speechless for a moment. It was like standing on a mountain top and being shown the countries and the glories of the world--like standing on the top of Kinchinjunga, thought Prescott. "But you assume we are all Bolsheviks, like yourself, we professors," he said, struggling for calm words. "Bolsheviks!" snorted the prince. "I spit on them! You think I, a nobleman, am interested in the masses? Cattle--swine! I plan only for the day when we who are worthy rule again, and this that I have told you is my plan. You can, as you Americans so coarsely say, either take it or leave it." * * * * * A tension hung in the air, as his words echoed into silence. The man had revealed himself. "And suppose we leave it?" asked the professor, restraining his irritation as best he could. "What then?" "Then I am afraid--ah--unpleasant consequences would result," was the bland answer. "Surely you realize that I could not let you and young Dr. Stoddard rejoin your expedition with this story to report." They realized it quite well. "But suppose we agree not to report it?" said Professor Prescott. "Not to doubt your honesty of intention," replied Krassnov sharply. "I would refuse to accept such an agreement." "Then I see nothing else but to decline your kind proposal," said Stoddard, before the professor could formulate further words. "What do you propose to do--murder us?" "Nothing so personal," said the prince, with his sardonic smile. "I shall merely turn you over to my little subjects. They no doubt will deal with you as your merits warrant." Whereupon he pressed a button under that elaborate teakwood table. The musical gong they had heard before sounded again, and the prince's two Cossack retainers reappeared. He addressed them briefly in Russian, adding to his guests: "Adieu, friends! If you change your minds, you have only to speak. You will be understood, and I shall be gratified." And without further words, they were led from that ornate apartment. * * * * * Taken back to the dazzling chamber under the meteor, they were turned over to the pigmies. A powwow resulted, but it was brief. The two captives were bound fast in a curious ceremonial pit near the center of the room. Then the midget horde withdrew, leaving them alone there under that eery glow.