"That so?" The detective's flat gaze studied him without surprise or interest. "But the other guys did--four of them. Don't forget that." Bryan fell silent. Mulvaney wouldn't die--but he would tell of Bryan knocking him down, of Bryan's co-operation with strange creatures that had taken the lives of four men. Mulvaney, however, wasn't likely to tell exactly what he had seen. His story, too, would be something that could be swallowed without tasting.... Then Bryan saw that he and the others were crossing one edge of an open space. The pavilion rose in the middle of it, a pale ghostly shape against the darkness. It would remain a symbol for him. For within sight of it his life had begun--and ended. * * * * * A path swallowed him and his captors. The pavilion faded from view. Ahead was the sprawling bulk of the city, dotted and splashed with light. It was against this backdrop that the sound came, rising out of inaudibility. The flapping of great wings. _Wings!_ A vast wind seemed to blow through Bryan. He stopped dead, staring up into the sky. The detective and his companion seemed to hear the sound also. They, too, peered upward, puzzled. Bryan thought he knew where to look. And glancing back in the direction of the pavilion, he saw a vague dark shape against the stars. Sudden urgency roared in him like thunder. The pavilion! He had to go back! He lifted his imprisoned arms and swung them in a sweeping club-like blow. The policeman dropped before he could move his gun back into line. The detective swore in dismay, sent a hand darting under his coat--but Bryan was already whirling toward him. He kneed the man in the stomach, then felled him with a chopping blow to the back of the head. Beyond hindrance now, Bryan ran. He ran recklessly, wildly, eagerness driving away his exhaustion, sending an explosive power into his legs. Behind him voices shouted, a whistle shrilled. Then the sharp blast of a gun split the air. He left the path and cut across a stretch of grass. A wall of shrubbery rose before him, and he plunged into it without checking speed. Branches lashed at him, tore at him. He fell, heaved himself erect, fought his way clear. More grass, and then another path, running parallel to the one he had fled. He followed this, and presently the pavilion took form in the gloom. Above it a dark shape circled on huge wings. The giant bird--and it was alone. Bryan could see no other shapes accompanying it. He was puzzling over the discovery, when a flashlight beam speared at him out of an intersecting path. Shouts followed it, filled with a swift excitement. "There he is!" "Stop, you!" Bryan plunged on. Again a whistle shrilled. Then the running sounds of a group of men came in pursuit. The pavilion rose before him. He reached the open space around it, halted, swung his bound hands in an urgent gesture at the sky. "Here I am!" he called, not knowing if his call would be heard. "Here--quick!"