We seemed now to have passed within the patrol line. There were no more official vessels to be seen. We clung low, and at 12 deg. South, 60 deg. 2O' West, at 10:16 that morning we descended in Venia, capital of the Central Latina Province, largest immigrant colony of the Western Hemisphere.[9] [Footnote 9: Now Matto Grosso State, Brazil.] We landed on a stage of one of the upper crescent terraces. A crowd of Venus people surrounded us. Even in the turmoil of our debarkation, I wondered where the official landing director might be. None of the governing officials were in sight. The place was in confusion. Crowds were on the spider bridges; the terraces and the sloping steps were jammed. Milling, excited people. The foreign police, pompous Venus men in gaudy uniforms, were herding the people about. But none of our Earth officials! Where were they, who should have been in charge of all this confusion? My heart sank. Something drastic, sinister, had occurred. We had no time to guess what it might be. Argo drove us forward, with scant courtesy now, down in a vertical car, through a tunnel on foot to what they called here in Venia the Lower Plaza. We crossed it, and entered one of their queerly flat buildings at the ground level; entered through an archway, passed through several rooms and came at last into a room whirring with instruments. Argo said triumphantly, yet humbly: "Tarrano, Master--we are here." A man at a table of helio-sending instruments turned and faced us. We were in the presence of the dread Tarrano! CHAPTER VI _Man of Destiny_ Tarrano! He rose slowly to his feet, his gaze on us for an instant, then turning to Argo. "So! You took them? Well done, Argo!" His gesture dismissed his subordinate; Argo backed from the room. From a disc, an announcer was detailing dispatches. Tarrano frowned slightly. He advanced to us as we three stood together. I had heard Elza give a low, surprised cry as we entered. She stood with a hand upon my arm. I could feel her trembling, but her face now was impassive. Georg whispered to me: "This Tarrano----" But our captor's voice checked him. "Come this way, please." He signalled, and three men came forward. To them he issued short commands; they took their places at the instrument tables. Then he led us from the room through an arch, over a small trestle, into a tiny inner courtyard. A tropical garden, surrounded by blank circular walls of the building. A patch of blue sky showed above it. A garden secluded from prying eyes, with only a single spider bridge crossing overhead. Vivid flowers and foliage made it a bower. Brown bark paths laced it; a tiny fountain splashed in the center. Tarrano sat on the rim of the fountain; he gestured to a white stone bench where we three sat in a row, Elza between us. It made me feel like a child. "Your father is dead." He was addressing Elza; and then Georg. "That is unfortunate. He was a good man. I'm sorry."