He made a wry face at that. “If Gapth had been there a moment earlier she would not have escaped, either,” he said, and by that I knew that she had escaped, unless she had fallen back into the crater; and I was amply repaid for my own capture if it had won freedom for Nah-ee- lah. “Although I did not escape this time,” I said, “I shall next time.” He laughed a nasty laugh. “There will be no next time,” he said, “for we are taking you to the city, and once there, there is no escape, for this is the only avenue by which you can reach the outer world and once within the city you never can retrace your steps to the mouth of the tunnel.” I was not so sure of that, myself, for my sense of direction and that of location are very well developed within me. The degree of perfection attained in orientation by many officers of the International Peace Fleet has been described as almost miraculous, and even among such as these my ability in this line was a matter of comment. I was glad, therefore, that the fellow had warned me, since now I should be particularly upon the watch for each slightest scrap of information that would fix in my memory whatever route I might be led over. From the cave in which I regained consciousness there was but a single route to the mouth of the tunnel, but from here on into the city I must watch every turn and fork and crossing and draw upon the tablets of my memory an accurate and detailed map of the entire route. “We do not even have to confine our prisoners,” continued Gapth, “after we have so marked them that their ownership may always be determined.” “How do you mark them?” I asked. “With heated irons we make the mark of the owner here,” and he touched my forehead just above my eyes. “Pleasant,” I thought to myself, and then aloud: “Shall I belong to you?” “I do not know,” he replied, “but you will belong to whomever The Twentyfour allot you.”