"You will say this merely indicates that the Khmers did not inter their dead. Perhaps they had no sepulchers, no graveyards or tombs. True. But shouldn't there be human remains somewhere in or near these structures? Even if age did rot the carcasses, there should be bones! But--there are no bones in Angkor! "Not only that, but there are no weapons, no pottery fragments, no accoutrements! If I die, one of thirty million souls simultaneously stricken by death, my body can decay, my crumbling bones may be swept away by the winds, yes! But the Khmers wore metal bracelets, belts, buckles; used utensils of metal. Their pictures tell us so. "Yet there is not one piece of wearing apparel to be found in all Angkor! Not a single pin, not a scrap of household furniture, not one old, discarded cooking-pot! Now, how do you account for that?" Ramey, staring at the old archeologist, slowly shook his head. "I--I can't, sir. Can you?" Ian Aiken's eyes were strangely introspective. "I see but one possible solution, my boy. There was a mass emigration, purposeful, determined, complete. That--until a more satisfactory theory presents itself--is the way I am forced to explain it. And it is an explanation at least halfway in accord with the symbolic drawing I mentioned a few minutes ago. The drawing that shows--Yes, Sirabhar?" He broke off suddenly as the small Cambodian bustled into the room, dark eyes wide and frightened. "Pardon, master Doctor, sir! But warriors approach. Armed forces of the Island Ones cross the South bridge." "This time it ain't no false alarm, Ramey. It's the Japs. They _did_ see our 'plane crash, after all!" CHAPTER IV Attack Syd O'Brien said glumly, "I knew it! Now we're in a mess. I guess I'll write my thesis in a Saigon prison!" But the expedition leader turned on him testily. "Nonsense, Sydney! There is absolutely no cause for alarm. Naturally, the Japanese had to investigate a falling 'plane. But they can't possibly know the aviators are safe, and masquerading as members of our party--" He turned to the others--"Shall we go out to meet them? It will look better. No, Sheila--I think you'd better stay here!" The girl's shoulders stiffened defiantly. A strange admiration brightened Ramey's eyes. Or perhaps it was not so strange, after all. Many times, during the preceding hour of conversation, he had found his gaze wandering toward her. In a happier, more peaceful world, perhaps-- "Why should I, Daddy?" "Sydney--" Dr. Aiken ignored the question--"you'd better go down and speak to the workmen. Reassure them. Get Tomasaki to help you. Ramey, you and Lake and I will talk to our visitors. All right, Sirabhar, you may come, too." "How about me, Doc?" Dr. Aiken glanced meaningfully toward the bandage on Barrett's head. "I think you'd better stay here and keep out of sight," he said wryly. "That--er--turban you're wearing is the weak spot in our story!"