Dave Greeley was standing at the head of the stairs. The representative of the FBL was looking both knowledgeable and competent, though even more gray haired and anxious than last night. He nodded quickly at Opperly, said, "Pardon me, doctor," then leveled his stun-gun between the ranks of men crowding the wall and punched the trigger. But his nerves couldn't have been as good as Phil thought they were, for instead of the green cat collapsing, Miss Ames pitched over on her face, gasping wonderingly, "My leg--I can't feel it!" Greeley grimaced and re-directed his stun-gun, as the dust mushroomed up from the carpet around Miss Ames. But at the same moment Phil felt the golden wave billowing out from Lucky. Greeley's face turned red and his fingers stiffly uncurled from the gun, as if invisible hands were prying them away, and it dropped to the floor. At that moment another voice behind them, languorous and scornful, said, "Stay where you are, gentlemen. It would be dangerous to move your hands." Dora Pannes stood at the head of the stairs. The violet blonde was simply dressed in a gray frock, while a large handbag swung carelessly from her shoulder, but she looked rather more beautiful than last night. In her slender hand was a great big ortho. Phil didn't feel at all frightened, although a vague memory nagged momentarily at his mind. He knew she couldn't hurt anyone while Lucky was there. He was more interested in the reactions of the others. But with one exception there weren't any reactions. The exception was da Silva. He was staring at Dora Pannes with a hungry adoration. Meanwhile the violet blonde was walking forward in a most business-like way. She didn't even glance at da Silva. As she passed Greeley, her free hand snatched sidewise like a lizard's tongue for the stun-gun, snatched again at a larger one inside his coat, dropped them both in her handbag, and kept going straight for the cat. Now she'll begin to feel it, Phil told himself. But she kept straight on. Lucky seemed to be studying her casually. Abruptly he sprang back onto the window sill, his green fur rose, his muzzle lengthened, and from it came a prolonged, spitting hiss. The next moment Phil felt such a formless terror as he had never known before, as if all reality were about to be crunched in a single fist, as if the blackness between the stars were lashing down to strangle him. Dimly across the hall, he saw the waves of white wash along the ranked faces. He gazed fearfully at Lucky, as if the green cat had turned into a devil, and saw Dora Pannes coolly stooping to grab him. The cat started to streak past her, but Dora's hands were faster. Then the cat sprang straight at her face, claws raking, but Dora calmly detached him and shoved him in her handbag and shut it and started back. She looked quite as beautiful and composed as she had at the stair head. The blood hadn't started to flow from the scratches in her face.