Thunder with a thousand toneless voices echoed through his mind. Lightning with the hues of alien spectra shot blindingly into his eyes. He felt as though he had suddenly grasped the two poles of an electric circuit. His muscles contracted spasmodically and numbness clutched with deadly anesthesia at his groping mind. When the stupor finally began to retreat from Randall's bewildered consciousness, the first sounds he identified were the delayed screams of the four school ma'ms and the bride. He cautiously opened his smarting eyes and looked around. What he saw was far from reassuring, for it was vividly apparent that they were no longer in the Diamvator. In fact, there was no sign whatever to be seen of the Tube Car! Randall blinked, looked again. He and his eleven companions were suspended like fallen acrobats in a huge net constructed of closely-woven metallic strands. A dozen feet above his head was a coruscating sheet of stratified radiance that arched across like a miniature sky, forming a hemispherical dome of light over the great net. Randall cleared his throat noisily. He had stalked desperate criminals into their hiding places. He had daringly matched cunning with determined dope rings. He had stood face-to-face with armed murderers, but never as now had he felt so completely at a loss. Never had he been so neatly and easily trapped. But what was behind it all? And how had it been done? What earthly--or other--agency could contrive to tear twelve people from the interior of a locked metal car traveling in excess of two thousand miles an hour? Randall shrugged and turned to examine his eleven charges. The newlyweds, Charles and Evelyn McMahon, were clutching each other frantically as if their very salvation lay in their proximity. Blake Garnet, the lion hunter, had cautiously gained his feet and was edging gingerly across the net toward Randall. The four school ma'ms were trying frantically to sit up, clutching each other as if separation spelled death. Randall remembered their names because they were so thoroughly, almost ludicrously American. Retta Shields, Laura Hanks and Sarah Nelson were the three thin ones, and Mamie Wilson was the plump, good-natured one. Paul Gerard, the white-haired professional gentleman, was interestedly gazing up at the coruscating hemisphere of radiance. Angus McClellan, the lean whimsical chap whom Randall hadn't been able to catalogue, was talking in low tones with Gordon Malherne, the young engineer. Randall started forward to meet Blake Garnet, when suddenly the net began to sink beneath his feet. Down and down it sank, until Randall felt a firm foundation under his feet. Then the edges of the net were pulled up and over until the twelve humans were rolled pell-mell together in the bottom of a huge woven bag. A huge eye peered in at the twelve startled humans. An eye that glinted light from a thousand separate facets.