“Disaster,” said Entt. “There is nothing for any of us but to escape.” “But there is!” I exclaimed. I outlined my plan. With these invisible suits two or three of us could get into the gate-house, even though it was held by the Gians. A desperate venture--suicide possibly. But if, before they found and killed us, we could get the huge gates closed and demolish the mechanism, it would be worth it. Entt’s eyes flashed. “I think I understand that mechanism. I will go with you.” I still held the small weapon I had seized from my Gian guard in Rhana’s Castle room. It had been of no use to us in the Castle, since none of us knew how to fire it. The weapons of the Gians in this realm had been very closely held. Nereid had never even had such a weapon in her hand before. But Entt knew how to use it. He would show me. At the gate-house it would be of service. We started again for Fen’s home, walking, with Entt on the _arras_ beside us. My plan was to leave Nereid with her father. They would get together what belongings they wanted and start for the tunnel and wait there at the entrance for the success or failure of our venture. If we were still alive, we would join them there. We were three minutes, no more, reaching the house. My mind roved what lay ahead: The horrors here in this dark abyss, unseen by our great world spreading above. These escaping Gians--forty or fifty thousand of them, with all their equipment of war, passing upward through the locks into our falling ocean. This harried Middge people, unarmed, in panic, a million of them fleeing their doomed realm, marching desperately into a tunnel that might lead them to safety. That titanic surge of water, off there in the neighboring abyss of the monsters--coming down to mingle with the slumbering fires of the earth. Vast horrors impended for our upper world. But the human mind individualizes. I chiefly felt, and considered, the personal danger to this little band of friends with whom my interest lay. And as we approached the silent doorway of Fen’s home, the sense of impending tragedy--crowning horror--was strong upon me. We entered. Nereid called: “Father--my father--we have come.” I heard Tad mutter: “I hope he’s kept that fellow Bhool locked up.” We passed the silent rooms. “Father--father!” A fear was creeping into Nereid’s voice. We hastened, bursting into the main apartment. Crowning horror! The closet into which Bhool had been thrust and locked, stood open. There was food upon the table in the room. On the floor in a huddled heap lay old Fen. Gruesome, a red stain against his neck, a small, spreading pool of crimson on the floor; a broad knife-blade, bathed in crimson, lying here discarded by the murderer. We stood stricken, staring, gasping. And then little Nereid flung herself down. * * * * * He lived to open his eyes and see us. He seemed to recognize us. Arturo knelt with Nereid.