“Drink!” again said the voice, and I sensed the menace in the metallic, rasping words, “to struggle is useless, for you cannot see in the dark. Do as you are told, or you shall be pinioned and forcibly made to drink. The liquid will not harm you, if that is why you are fearful.” The pain from his tremendous grip on my shoulder was too much. It would indeed be of no avail to struggle in the dark with an unknown, powerful adversary who was apparently thoroughly indifferent to the lack of light. There was nothing to do but drink, and hope that he told the truth in saying no harm lay therein. It was only a small bowl, holding little more than an ordinary glass, and I quaffed the whole potion in large gulps. It tasted no different than ordinary water. “That is better,” came the voice, as the bowl was taken from me and the hand on my shoulder removed, “now I shall talk to you. Sit quite still. You cannot possibly escape, and besides I can see you perfectly, so--” I gave a gasp of incredulity. It was conceivable that the owner of this voice might be so used to the dark that he could make his way around; but as for seeing me perfectly in this smothering blackness . . . the man must be mad! That was it! I had been captured by some lunatic, and brought to this underground cavern for a terrible purpose. My only chance was to humor the creature, to use my wits and watch for a chance to overpower him. He was evidently endowed with a sort of sixth sense, and I would have to bide my time. Then, his voice--it was not the voice of a normal human being. “I see that you do not believe my statement,” went on that drawling, peculiar voice. “You think that it is not possible for anyone to see in the dark. You not only think I am lying, but you think I am crazy. When I get done talking to you, it will be surprising if you do not think yourself crazy instead. We know no difference between light and dark, such as you dwellers on the Earth. Light is used by us only to intensify that which we already see--it is similar to what magnification would be to you. Light makes a reaction on certain nerves of ours, corresponding to your optic nerves, that simply intensifies the image. The stronger the light, the larger the image. As I look at you now, you are your normal size. We have lived and worked so long here that we are even more partial to dark than to light, although in our work we find it necessary--” “Just a minute,” I broke in, realizing now that there was indeed a dangerous madman on my hands, and that only if I pretended to keep up a discussion on the topic which obsessed him could I hope to gain his good graces, “you must remember that I have only just arrived, and know nothing about you or your work. Where are the others who are associated with you? Did you bring me here to help you in any way? I’ll be glad to do anything I can.”