He pressed a switch. The tubes filled with a green glow. * * * * * Two hours passed, and the sun was sinking behind the trees of the park in a bloody haze when Jack at last signaled for June to handle the dials. For a time he guided her slim fingers. Then, as she caught the trick, he rose and stretched his cramped muscles. "Don't lose the wave for a moment or we'll have to start all over again," he warned. "Now for dinner!" She nodded and, frowning slightly, bent over the dials. At that moment there came a heavy knock on the apartment door. "Who's that?" gasped Manthis, his face turning grey. "Probably Solinski," replied Jack, feeling his spine crawl as he remembered the moldy Russian. "Fine time he chose for a visit." "Shall I let him in?" "Don't see what else there is to do." "Good evening," cried their guest as Manthis opened the door. "Ah, Dr. Manthis, I believe. I have heard so much about your work." His hoarse yet ringing voice made the little man start violently and caused June to shake her head in annoyance as the sound interfered with the humming of the vagrant wave. "Sorry I could not come earlier." Solinski advanced into the laboratory, giving the effect of driving the chemist before him. "Trying to revive one of the sufferers, I see. May God aid you in this noble work." * * * * * He spread the tails of his long coat and sat down. As he talked his eyes flashed about the room, taking in every detail and at last fastening on June's fresh beauty like those of a vampire. "Not," he boomed as he lighted a cigarette, "not that I believe it possible--" Catching an agonized glance from Jane, Jack interrupted: "You'll have to speak softly, sir. This is ticklish work." "I beg your pardon." The Russian lowered his voice so that it squeaked piercingly like a rusty hinge. He wrung his hands audibly. "Perhaps we'd better move into the living room," suggested the doctor, hovering in the background. "There we can talk without interrupting." Their guest unfolded joint by joint like a collapsible rule. "Of course, if you think I'm spying," he grated. "Not at all," protested Jack, although he longed to strike the brute across the face. "It's just that voices of certain pitches interfere. Surely you have seen radio operators go all to pieces when spoken to." Ungraciously Solinski allowed himself to be ushered into the outer room. Once there he disposed his lean form on another chair, unctuously refused a highball, and, forgetting his momentary anger, soon was deep in a scientific discussion of the problems involved in revivifying the world.