I wondered what could be the plans of these Gian women against our great nations. I could imagine, once our existence here was discovered, that the earth armies could drive us out of these grottos and exterminate us. Yet there was about these women an aspect of confidence. Was it ignorance of what our civilized millions could do in warfare? What weapons did these Gians have to make them so confident? I said once to Rhana: “If you want me to help you--why not tell me your own plans? These nations you are going to conquer are very powerful.” She told me abruptly. I sat, speechless, stricken, and stared at her. Ah, the warfare of our civilized millions! I could see now how readily it might go down into defeat against this enemy inhuman! Spreading broadcast a fatal, incurable, uncontrollable disease! She did not seem to notice my horror. She told me many things of the past; how long the Gians had planned this; how, when a year ago the gates had been opened a trifle, she had thought to come with her army up through the water. That menace at Maui, which we had seen from the Dolphin. But she had found it impractical--and had planned this present method. It was the longest talk I ever had with Rhana. It was, I think, about the night of October 17. Nereid interrupted us. She came, forcing her guards to let her join us, vehemently protesting as they tried to hold her. Rhana frowned. “You make a disturbance?” She said it in English; and Nereid answered the same way. “I do not! They tried to hold me. I--I have communicated with some one I know--she--” “That girl you call Polly?” “Yes.” I was on my feet. “Nereid! Think what you say!” But her swift glance reassured me. She was careful. She said: “Yes, I have reached her. She has been trying to reach me.” There had never been, I knew, an hour when Nereid had not been flinging her thoughts toward Polly. And now, at last, Polly’s thoughts--a message--had come clearly back. The world was alarmed. The authorities wanted--before they attacked this enemy--to talk about it. Polly was trying to arrange a meeting. The United States proposed to send an unarmed plane with a white banner of truce to a designated place over the Lowlands. I could visualize it. I had met our kindly, earnest President. I knew well his ideals, his aspirations to instill in humanity that unselfishness, that altruism it never has had, and never will. I knew also his closest friend, the gray-haired British minister. And the Anglo-Saxon director of foreign relations. I could imagine these three--highest types of our great civilization--in conference now over this sudden menace. I could imagine them saying: “These people are human like ourselves. Misguided, that is all. Why should they attack us in this fiendish fashion? Why force us to make war upon them?”