There were no windows in the room—at least not what the world above would understand by the word—but there was an opening overlooking the narrow causeway that served to let in light and air. There was no shutter to it, only heavy purple draperies hung at either side, which could be drawn across if privacy was desired. In two corners of the room were tall braziers, and Alan touched the large switch that protruded from them. Instantly the room was flooded with the soft, purple light that seemed to exude from the trees; and Alan felt that his first conjecture was right—the trees possessed some natural light which the natives had learnt to control, and which they ran along the branches much in the same way that we run electricity along cables. At any rate the result was very pleasing, and the light possessed none of the glare that is characteristic of electricity. His investigations being finished he inspected a heavy curtain that was draped across the wall nearest the “window” opening. He pulled it aside, and behind it was revealed a door. It was made on the sliding principle, and as it moved slightly he saw revealed before him a room that seemed almost an exact replica of the apartment he was in. Carefully he stepped inside—and there in the further corner, he saw a low mattress, and in the semi darkness he thought he saw it move ever so slightly. He drew back startled, but on his ears came the sound of deep breathing: some one or something was sleeping there. He moved cautiously toward it, and saw the figure of a man lying on the couch. Suddenly the sleeper turned over, leaving his face exposed to view. Alan uttered an exclamation that awoke the sleeping man. For a moment there was silence and then a great cry rang on the air—“My God—it’s Alan.” “Dez, old boy!” cried his cousin, his sobs coming thick and fast. “Dez! Thank God I’ve found you. Steady, boy, steady—it’s two against those purple devils now,” and the strong man bent low and sobbed as if his heart would break. CHAPTER II THE ORIGIN OF THE PEOPLE For some time after the cousins met again so strangely, they could only grasp each other’s hands—their hearts were too full for words. “I’m like a silly woman,” said Desmond at last “but oh! Alan, I seem to have been in this Hell a lifetime.” “Poor old boy.” “No one to speak to but Kaweeka—no one to look at but Kaweeka—always Kaweeka—until I felt I should go mad.” “How did you get here?” asked Alan at last. “We were never able to discover the origin of the Light. Oh,” he shuddered, “I shall never forget seeing you carried off—whirling through space—it was terrible.”