Her heart gave one wild bound,--then almost stood still from sheer terror. She felt herself swaying into unconsciousness, and made a violent effort to master the physical weakness that threatened her. That voice--what voice? Surely one evoked from her own imagination! It spoke again--this time with an intonation that was exquisitely soothing and tender. "Why are you afraid? For you there is nothing to fear!" She raised her eyes and looked about nervously. The soft luminance which lit the "White Eagle's" interior from end to end showed nothing new or alarming,--her dainty, rose-lined cabin held no strange or supernatural visitant,--all was as usual. After a pause she rallied strength enough to question the audible but invisible intruder. "Who is it that speaks to me?" she asked, faintly. "One from the city below,"--was the instant reply given in full clear accents--"I am speaking on the Sound Ray." She held her breath in mute wonder, listening. The voice went on, equably-- "You know the use of wireless telephony--we have it as you have it, only your methods are imperfect. We speak on Sound Rays which are not yet discovered in your country. We need neither transmitter nor receiver. Wherever we send our messages, no matter how great the distance, they are always heard." Slowly Morgana began to regain courage. By degrees she realised that she was attaining the wish of her heart--namely, to know what no woman had ever known before. Again she questioned the voice-- "You tell me I cannot proceed,"--she said--"Why?" "Because our city is guarded and fortified by the air,"--was the answer--"We are surrounded by a belt of etheric force through which nothing can pass. A million bombs could not break it,--everything driven against it would be dashed to pieces. We saw you coming--we were surprised, for no air-ship has ever ventured so far--we rang the bells of the city to warn you, and stopped your flight." The warm gentleness of the voice thrilled her with a sudden sympathy. "That was kind!" she said, and smiled. Some one smiled in response--or she thought so. Presently she spoke again-- "Then you hold me here a prisoner?" "No. You can return the way you came, quite freely." "May I not come down and see your city?" "No." "Why?" "Because you are not one of us." The Voice hesitated. "And because you are not alone." Morgana glanced at the prostrate and unconscious forms of Rivardi and Gaspard with a touch of pity. "My companions are half dead!" she said. "But not wholly!" was the prompt reply. "Is it that force you speak of--the force which guards your city--that has struck them down?" she asked. "Yes." "Then why was I not also struck down?" "Because you are what you are!" Then--after a silence--"You are Morgana!"