"But the eyes! Look at them! They're not the eyes of a fish!" And they were not. There was in them a light of reason, of intelligence. Those eyes were roaming brightly over us, observing the light, the equipment, seeming to note our amazement as we crowded to look at it. The sphere rocked slightly. Behind the staring, manlike visitor there was a glimpse of enormous, crocodile jaws and huge, amethyst eyes. Instantly the head and arms receded, leaving an empty-seeming, lifeless shell. An impregnable fortress of spines, the thing drifted slowly away through the twisted loops of cable. "It certainly looked like--" began Stanley shakily. "The creature was just a fish," said the Professor shaking his head at the light in Stanley's eyes. "Some sort of giant parasite that inhabits the shells of other fish." He opened the valve of the last air cylinder and seated himself resignedly on the bench. "We have another half hour or so--" All of us suddenly put out our hands to brace ourselves. The sphere had moved. "Look at the cable!" called Stanley. We did so. It was moving, writhing away from us over the bottom as though abruptly given life of its own. Coil after coil disappeared into the further gloom. At length the cable was straight. The ball moved again--was dragged a few feet along the rocky floor. Something--possessed of incredibly vast power--had seized the end of the steel cable and was reeling us in as a fisherman reels in a trout! * * * * * Slowly, unsteadily, we slid along the ocean floor. Ahead of us appeared a jagged black wall--a cliff. There was a gloomy hole at its base. Toward this we were being dragged by whatever it was that had caught the end of the cable. Helpless, we watched ourselves engulfed by the murky den. In the beam of the searchlight we saw that the submarine cavern extended on and on for an unguessable depth. The cable, taut with the strain, stretched ahead out of sight. Time had been lost track of during that mysterious, ominous journey. It was recalled to us by the state of the air we were breathing. The Professor removed his mouthpiece and cast the tube aside. "You might as well stop pumping, Martin," he said quietly. "We're done. There's no more air in the flask." We stared at each other. Then we shook hands, solemnly, tremulously, taking leave of each other before we departed on that longest of all journeys.... The air in that small space was rapidly exhausted. We lay on the floor, laboring for breath, and closed our eyes.... The Professor, the oldest of the three of us, succumbed first. I heard his breath whistle stertorously and, glancing at him, saw that he was in a coma. In a moment Stanley had joined him in blessed unconsciousness. I could feel myself drifting off.... Hammers beat at my ears.... Daggers pierced my heaving lungs....