There was no need to explain. The wealthiest man since Croesus, an enormous ransom could well be torn from him, to say nothing of what could also be extracted from the families of the young folk lying senseless about them. And, in all probability, capping the situation with a trim jest, a tidy sum for the safe return of the excellent Senator Iris Chanler herself. It was very clever, and no less disturbing. The liner quivered and groaned as the pirate ship hooked on, a black merchantman of latest design. There came the hiss of air and the clang of bolts as the pirates began to come aboard through the connecting airlocks. He looked back to Iris, sitting tensely in her deep blue lounge seat. "Chain Lucas?" "There is no Chain Lucas," she smiled, coldly. As he digested that startling remark, footsteps resounded along the passage and the saloon door was thrust rudely open. Framed in the opening, a tall, raffish fellow in trim blue grinned at them. Iris leaped to her feet and ran to him, flinging her arms about his neck as he engulfed her in a bearish hug. Thorne took no advantage of their preoccupation, for several other hard-looking men in flying clothes were crowding into the room, gun in hand. As they began picking up the unconscious passengers and shoving them roughly back into their seats, the pirate and the girl broke their enraptured embrace and moved coolly over to Thorne. "You really got him," he exulted, sallow skin glowing with an unhealthy tinge. He was not unhandsome, but his full lips had an ugly downward curl Thorne disliked. "This is Captain Thorne," she replied, a certain pride in her voice. "We're through, Iris," he crowed, clasping her with one long arm. "Through." "Through with life," agreed Thorne, coldly. He eyed the intruder arrogantly, his body motionless, his eyes intent. "Your name, you?" The pirate leader sprang backward, releasing Iris, his hand on his gun. "You turned your back on him, you fool, and he's awake!" Iris laughed. "Captain Thorne has a very unusual constitution, my dear. I did not trust the crystals entirely, but though he can move his head, he is as paralyzed as the rest of them." Thorne turned a contemplative eye upon his erstwhile companion of the misdirected adventure. "I remember, you were our cook this merry evening, Senator Chanler." His formal insistence upon her betrayed trust did not trouble her. "The yellow ray is entirely harmless unless the prospective victim has certain mineral salts in his system. I supplied them in your food." "Eating none yourself," he agreed. "A clever method. You had no qualms, striking down your friends for this gay blade?" "They go to ransom, as you do," she replied, her lovely face hardening. "No friends of mine, Captain Thorne. If they accepted me, it was because I had money and position. I have no love for their silly kind."