"Right of way, Norma?" he asked, waving an airy salute at the attractive young woman in Haynes' outer office. "Go right in, Lensman Kinnison, he's waiting for you," and opening the door for him, she stood aside as he strode into the sanctum. * * * * * The Port Admiral returned the younger man's punctilious salute, then the two shook hands warmly before Haynes referred to the third man in the room. "Navigator Xylpic, this is Lensman Kinnison, unattached. Sit down, please; this may take some time. Now, Kinnison, I want to tell you that ships have been disappearing, right and left, disappearing without sending out an alarm or leaving a trace. Convoying makes no difference, as the escorts also disappear--" "Any with the new projectors?" Kinnison flashed the question via Lens--this was nothing to talk about aloud. "No," came the reassuring thought in reply. "Every one bottled up tight until we find out what it's all about. Sending out the _Dauntless_ after you was the only exception." "Fine. You shouldn't have taken even that much chance." This interplay of thought took but an instant; Haynes went on with scarcely a break in his voice: "--with no more warning or report than the freighters and liners they are supposed to be protecting. Automatic reporting also fails--the instruments simply stop sending. The first and only sign of light--if it _is_ such a sign; which, frankly, I doubt--came shortly before I called you in, when Xylpic here came to me with a tall story." Kinnison looked then at the stranger. Pink. Unmistakably a Chickladorian--pink all over. Bushy hair, triangular eyes, teeth, skin; all that same peculiar color. Not the flush of red blood showing through translucent skin, but opaque pigment; the brick-reddish pink so characteristic of the near-humanity of that planet. "We have investigated this Xylpic thoroughly." Haynes went on, discussing the Chickladorian as impersonally as though he were upon his home planet instead of there in the room, listening. "The worse of it is that the man is absolutely honest--or at least, he himself believes that he is--in telling this yarn. Also, except for this one thing--this obsession, fixed idea, hallucination, call it what you like; it seems incredible that it _can_ be a fact--he not only seems to be, but actually _is_, absolutely sane. "Now, Xylpic, tell Kinnison what you have told the rest of us. And Kinnison, I hope that you can make sense of it--none of the rest of us can." "QX. Go ahead, I'm listening." But Kinnison did far more than listen. As the fellow began to talk the Gray Lensman insinuated his mind into that of the Chickladorian. He groped for moments, seeking the wave-length; then he, Kimball Kinnison, was actually reliving with the pink man an experience which harrowed his very soul.