The exaltation dropped from him; there was a touch of horror in the eyes he turned to her; her own dropped before it.

“It shall be as you say,” she said hurriedly. She drew the shining cone from her breast; levelled it at the vase. The green ray leaped forth, spread over the crystal, but before its action could even be begun, a flash of light shot from O’Keefe’s hand, his automatic spat and the trembling vase flew into fragments. As quickly as he had drawn it, he thrust the pistol back into place and stood there empty handed, looking at her sternly. From the anteroom came shouting, a rush of feet.

Yolara’s face was white, her eyes strained⁠—but her voice was unshaken as she called to the clamouring guards:

“It is nothing⁠—go to your places!”

But when the sound of their return had ceased she stared tensely at the Irishman⁠—then looked again at the shattered vase.

“It is true!” she cried, “but see, the Keth is⁠—alive!”