Our captors stood curiously watching us. There seemed to be at least ten of them--men as tall as myself, though not so tall as Georg. Swarthy, gray-skinned fellows--one or two of them squat, ape-like with their heavy shoulders and dangling arms. Men of the Venus Cold Country. They were talking together in their queer, soft language. One of them I took to be the leader. Argo was his name, I afterward learned. He was somewhat taller than the rest, and slim. A man perhaps thirty. Paler of skin than most of his companions--gray skin with a bronze cast. Dressed like the others in fur. But his heavy jacket was open, disclosing a ruffled white shirt, with a low black stock about his throat. A shifty-eyed fellow, this Argo. Smooth-shaven, with a mouth slack-lipped, and small black eyes. But his features were finely chiseled; and with that bronze cast to his skin, I guessed that he was from the Venus Central State. He seemed much perturbed that Dr. Brende was dead. Occasionally he burst into English as he rebuked one of the others for the killing. No more than a moment had passed. Georg joined Elza and me. We stood waiting. Georg whispered: "They killed Robins and his helpers. In there----" He gestured. "I saw them lying in there. If only I had--" Argo was standing before us. "This is a very pleasant surprise--" He spoke the careful English of the educated foreigner. His tone was ironical. "Very pleasant--" Abruptly he turned away again. But in that instant, his eyes had roved Elza in a way that turned me cold. They led us away, down a padded hallway into the instrument room. It was in full operation; our Inter-Allied news-tape was clicking; the low voice of the announcer droned through the silence. I started toward the tape, but Argo waved me away. He had volunteered us nothing, and again Georg advised silence. Argo had given his orders. Through a window I saw men carrying apparatus from the house. A small metal frame of sun-mirrors, prisms and vacuum tubes. Georg whispered: "Father's model." The man with it passed beyond my sight. Others came along, carrying the cylinders of books--Dr. Brende's notes--and a variety of other paraphernalia. Carrying it back from the shore toward the headlands of the Cape, where I realized now they had an aero secreted. Argo was at a mirror; he had a head-piece on; he was talking into a disc--talking in a private code. I could see the surface of the small mirror. A room, with windows. Through one of the windows, by daylight, palms and huge banana leaves were visible. A room seemingly in the tropics of our own hemisphere. Argo was triumphant--explaining, doubtless, that he had captured us. Mingled with his voice, the Inter-Allied announcer was saying: _"Greater-New York 10.32 Martian Helio, via Tokyohama: Little People Proclamation----"_