And it might have worked. Now a path was opening clear. But this time he really stumbled, lost his balance momentarily. It was enough to allow the guards to close in. Ketrik twisted erect, felt clutching hands upon him and heard the bellowing voice of the captain. He swung out with his arms, felt men flung backward. He tried to bring up the heat-gun. This time someone else was quicker. A heavy weight crashed against Ketrik's head, a sun exploded into millions of fragments which dwindled away as he plunged forward into darkness. * * * * * He regained his faculties quickly. His subconsciousness demanded it. This curious "awareness" in which Ketrik had trained himself had saved him from many a tight scrape. But now he did not open his eyes at once. He knew he was in the tube-car, for he could feel the cushioned seat beneath him and the faint vibration of the gyro-motors. Then he became aware of another fact. He was alone. This brought him to his feet, wide-eyed and alert. He felt the weight of his own gun again in his belt, examined it, found it still loaded. Strange! Where were the guards? Why should they be sending him somewhere alone? A glance at the _crystyte_ window revealed a flashing panorama of the city. He knew he was moving at terrific speed, probably on a special "right-of-way." To attempt an escape now would be suicide. He shrugged, settled down in the seat. His capture had been well planned, but he failed to see what the Council hoped to gain by it! Ketrik felt a surge of cold fury at this treachery--a treachery in which Mark Travers must have had a hand. Presently a braking signal flashed green. The tiny car sighed, as though exhausted from its headlong route across the city. It came to a stop against the forward cushion of air, and doors of _duraplon_ slid smoothly back. Hand near his gun, Ketrik emerged into a long empty corridor of black and silver. Black marble walls reached sheerly up, to curve away into a filigreed ceiling. Priceless tapestries adorned the walls, caught a hidden overhead glow and shattered it into lances of silver radiance. Ketrik frowned, looking at these tapestries. Their design was interwoven with thousands of _Kra_ plumes, those priceless silvery plumes for which he'd risked his life many times among the wild peaks of Ganymede. Only the very elect could afford them. He knew now, that he must be in Earth's Council Chambers. Again he felt a tingling awareness, knew that unseen eyes were upon him. He straightened his shoulders and walked unhurriedly toward a massive door at the end of the corridor. As he neared it, there came a tiny click and the door slid back.