They waited for him to speak but he said nothing. He stared at the hole with a look of amazement upon his face as though, for the first time the wonder of this strange transition had struck him forcibly. Then he turned his eyes upon his three companions and there was a look in his eyes that had not been there before; personal, yet impersonally analytical. A hard look to read, so they could have no way of knowing that he was trying to forecast how they would react to the fate that awaited them. "Well," Wilmer Payton demanded impatiently. "Did you see anything?" "Yes. This is not a room. It is a huge box of some sort. It is bound around on all sides by what looks like red carpeting of a width used in hallways. I believe such carpetings are called runners. Attached to the top is a large white sail although it appears to be made of paper rather than canvas." He was watching them closely as he spoke. "It took you all that time to see those things?" Walter Maltby asked a trifle plaintively. "No. There were other things." At this point Peggy Wilson, coming out of her shock, began to cry hysterically. "My God! What's to become of us? We'll all be killed--murdered!" "I don't think so," Carter said. "Then we'll be held prisoner. That will be just as bad!" "In a sense, you will be held prisoner--but I don't think it will be bad. I think our jailer will probably be a rather kindly person who will give us every consideration." "How could a jailer do that?" Peggy Wilson moaned. * * * * * Carter laid a hand upon her shoulder. "Consider, my dear. All your life you have needed a mother. Now you will have the equivalent of one." He turned to Walter Maltby. "And you. You have learned to function only as a result of a dominating wife's promptings. Our jailer will fill that role for you." Lastly he regarded Wilmer Payton. "You, young man will be directed and guided. You will not have need of the brain power with which you are not equipped. "All of you will be content. None will have any decisions to make--all will be taken care of. Can you think of a more pleasant destiny?" Walter Maltby said, "You're talking in circles. Talking but not saying anything!" Carter had turned away, smiling. "This is very strange. We were transported to another plane, but not snatched up willy-nilly. There was a pattern behind it. Three people admirably suited to their new fate." Wilmer Payton seized Fleming Carter by the arm and whirled him around. "Will you please tell us what you're talking about?" "Of course," Carter said quietly. "To speak the absolute truth, we are in a box. The box is tied with a wide red ribbon. The thing I called a sail is in reality a greeting card upon which certain words are written; words not too difficult to decipher." "Well, go on--what are the words." "In English, they would read--'Happy Birthday, Darling.' You are someone's birthday present."