"Well, and here comes the worst of it, they walked around just as though they were in a ship, growing fainter all the time. Then some of them lay down and something began to _skin_ one of them--skin him alive, sir--but there was nothing there at all. I ran, then. I got into the fastest lifeboat on the far side and gave her all the oof she'd take. That's all, sir." "Not quite all, Xylpic, unless I'm badly mistaken. Why didn't you tell the rest of it while you were at it?" "I didn't dare to, sir. If I'd told any more they would have _known_ I was crazy instead of just thinking so--" He broke sharply, his voice altering strangely as he went on: "What makes you think there was anything more, sir? Do you--" The question trailed off into silence. "I do. If what I think happened really did happen, there was more--quite a lot more--and worse. Wasn't there?" "I'll say there was!" The navigator almost exploded in relief. "Or rather, I think now that there was. But I can't describe any of it very well--everything was getting fainter all the time, and I thought that I must be imagining most of it." "You weren't imagining a thing--" the Lensman began, only to be interrupted by Haynes. "Hell's jingling bells!" that worthy almost shouted. "If you know what it was, tell me!" "Think I know, but not quite sure yet--got to check it. Can't get it from him--he's told everything he really knows. He didn't really see anything, it was practically invisible. Even if he had tried to describe the whole performance you wouldn't have recognized it. Nobody could have, except Worsel and I, and possibly Van Buskirk. I'll tell you the rest of what actually happened and Xylpic can tell us if it checks." His features grew taut, his voice became hard and chill. "I saw it done, once. Worse, I heard it. Saw it and heard it, clear and plain. Also, I knew what it was all about, so I can describe it a lot better than Xylpic possibly can. "Every man of that crew was killed by torture. Some were flayed alive, as Xylpic said; then they were carved up, slowly and piecemeal. Some were stretched, pulled apart by chains and hooks, on racks. Others twisted on frames. Boiled, little by little. Picked apart, bit by bit. Gassed. Eaten away by corrosives, one molecule at a time. Pressed out flat, as though between two plates of glass. Whipped. Scourged. Beaten gradually to a pulp. Other methods, lots of them--indescribable. All slow, though, and extremely painful. Greenish-yellow light, showing the aura of each man as he died. Beams from somewhere--possibly invisible--consuming the auras. Check, Xylpic?" "Yes, sir, it checks!" The Chickladorian exclaimed in profound relief; then added, carefully: "That is, that's the way the torture was, exactly, sir, but there was something funny, a difference, about their fading away. I can't describe what was funny about it, but it didn't seem so much that they became invisible as that they went away, sir, even though they didn't go any place."