Slowly the tubes warmed up, then there came a slight crackling from the loudspeaker, developing swiftly into a hum that rose and fell in a musical pattern. The green bands on the oscilloscope danced in time to the hum from the loudspeaker, and on the television screen an image began to form. By stages it grew, at first seeming to be a wavering white pillar, then a ghostly form, like a sheeted figure in a graveyard, then suddenly it began to clarify. A face emerged into view, and Mary almost gasped as she recognized it as her own. But the rest of the picture remained shadowy and indistinct. "More power," murmured Mary. She turned the rheostat up a trifle further, and the hum from the loudspeaker became even louder, more vibrant. On the screen the rest of the dancing figure coalesced and suddenly Mary jumped back from the screen. She turned toward Jensen where he lay, relaxing with a slight smile on his face, and uttered an exclamation. "Don, you stop that!" She reached for the electrode to snatch it indignantly from his head. As she did so her fingers touched the metal. A bright flash came from the silver disk, raced up her arm, and her muscles tightened in shock. Her voice rose suddenly in a scream, and then, as Jensen jerked violently under her hands, everything went black. She slumped beside him, unconscious, and the hum from the loudspeaker took on a higher, treble note that filled the whole laboratory with its vibrant pulsations. * * * * * High over the valley came a keening note, drifting down the wind with a strange, heterodyning effect. It rose and fell with a definite cadence, as though it were a message. Out of the murky darkness at the far end came a stirring; a gigantic groping, as of a monstrous something responding sluggishly to the call. Then, more swiftly, getting its bearings, the shadowed something began moving forward, gaining purpose, gaining massiveness, gaining speed. There was almost an anxious eagerness in its progress, as though it were an appetite sensing a free meal. At the same time there was something obscene in its haste, as though it anticipated more than mere food. High on the south wall of the valley, atop the ramparts of the City, stood a figure in a red cloak, staring out over the valley's dark depths. He was tall, saturnine, and his face, though darkly handsome, was somehow malevolent, menacing, revolting. He was leering now, in ghastly anticipation of something that was to occur at the base of the cliffs at his feet. Behind him the keening of the Call still emanated from the lips of the gory idol enthroned in the Temple. He shook a fist at the darkness below. "Feel now the dire might of the anger of Bra Naan!" he mouthed. "Die, Dahnjen Saan, despoiler of the Temple!" He turned to an accolyte. "Control the Beast, when he comes. Let him kill, but save the Priestess. Her punishment shall be mine alone." He licked his lips.