“People of the Moon,” he said, “we know not in what language to address you, so we are about to speak to you in all the known languages of the earth. Our mission is one of peace—our purpose to make apology for having wronged you—a people of whom we know nothing, and whose very existence we did not suspect. Will you answer us, People of the Moon?” The young inventor evidently did not expect a reply—not so soon, at least. He turned, and beckoned to the German linguist to take his place. It was his purpose to have the speech repeated in each language in turn. About to step down from the platform, he was startled by sudden cries of amazement from the men facing him. “Look, Ted! Look quickly, behind you!” he heard Roger shout. As he faced the radiovisiphone once more, it was his turn to gasp in astonishment not unmingled with awe, for revealed in the pellucid depths of the ten foot disk, and apparently not five feet from him, stood a woman—a glorious vision of feminine beauty that held him entranced. She was not large—a scant five feet in height, he judged—but there was a certain dignity in her bearing which somehow made her appear taller. The golden glory that was her hair, dressed in a style new and strange to the inventor, was held by a band of platinum-like metal powdered with glistening jewels. Her clothing, if judged by earthly standards, was not clothing at all. Gleaming meshes of white metal, woven closely together, formed a light, shimmering garment that covered though it revealed the lines of her shapely breasts, slender waist, and lissom hips, leaving arms, shoulders and legs bare. A jeweled dagger hung from a chain-like belt about her waist, and a huge ruby blazed on the index finger of her left hand. On her feet were sandals, apparently constructed from the white metal. Behind the young lady whose appearance had so amazed the distinguished gathering of scientists, stood two men, each well over six feet tall. They appeared to be guards, for each leaned on the hilt of a huge, broad-bladed, scimitar-like weapon that reached from the floor to the level of his breast, and both wore shining plate armor and helmets of strange design. The girl smiled, revealing at the same time, a set of small, even white teeth, and a most adorable pair of dimples. Then she spoke. Ted stood like one bewitched, listening to the clear, flute-like tones, but Roger had the presence of mind to turn on the recorder. She had not spoken more than a dozen words, however, when the image in the disc blurred and her voice was drowned by a confusion of discordant sounds. “What’s wrong?” asked the President of the United States, anxiously. “Another station cutting in, damn it!” replied Ted, frantically turning his wave-trap dial with one hand and the selector dials with the other.