"You know the way out. Give me time to reach the temple and begin the ceremony. Then lead the others out. They'll obey you; they're in the Noctoli trance. Get 'em to the hangar and light out for Oretown. Be sure to take the recording of the power-source with you." "You crazy fool," Willard said through stiff lips. "What about Moira?" Garth's face went gray. "Moira died years ago," he said carefully. "It was the Silver Plague." Doc didn't reply. But he nodded as though he had unexpectedly learned the answer to a problem that had been puzzling him. "Okay," Garth said. "You know what to do. Give me time enough to make it. Then get out of here with the others, fast." Willard's hand gripped Garth's. "Ed--" "Forget it." He moved toward the tunnel-mouth. Paula, he saw, was lying near by, her red-gold hair cascading about her pale, lovely face. Garth stood looking down at her for a long moment. Then he went on, into the tunnel that waited for him. He did not look back. Cautiously he stepped through the black curtain, ready to retreat at sight of any Zarno. But the cavern was empty. If he could make it--! Noiselessly he stole up the passage. Once he froze against the wall at the sound of distant footsteps. But they faded and were gone. He came out at last into a corridor he recognized. Far away, he saw the flashing gleam of the Zarno's silicate skins. They were approaching, but apparently had not seen him yet. He raced for the archway that led into the temple-cavern. If there were any Zarno there, it would be fatal. But luck favored him. The immense room was empty. At the far end the huge robot sat on its jet throne. Garth sprinted across the floor. He could hear voices growing louder in the distance, and the thumping of the Zarnos' footsteps, but he dared not risk a glance behind. Could he make it? He jerked to a halt, springing behind the throne, its bulk temporarily hiding him. The Zarno were in the temple-cave now; he could tell that by their voices. Hastily he sought the secret spring. A panel opened in the ebon block. It was exactly as he had seen it on the tripod-recording machine, a fair-sized cubicle with light coming faintly through a vision-slit in one wall. Garth wedged himself in and slid the panel shut behind him, gasping with relief. Peering through the slit, he found he could see the entire cavern. Three Zarno were approaching. The robot, seated on the throne above him, was, of course, invisible. Garth stared around, trying to remember the details of the Ancients' recording. A helmet transmitter ... there it was, attached by wires to the low ceiling. Warily Garth slipped it upon his head. What now? A flat black plate, like a diaphragm, was set in the wall slightly above his head as he crouched. This hiding-place, he realized, had been built for the larger bodies of the Ancients. Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate. Doc Willard had said the helmet-transmitters worked that way. Telepathy--will-power--