watching the road that leads above. But I ran down--to
help."

"Mart watching?" I asked. "Watching for what?"

"I--" she hesitated oddly. "I think I'd rather tell you
before him. It's so strange--so incredible."

She led us through the broken portal and into the fortress.
It was more gigantic even than I had thought. The
floor of the vast chamber we had entered was strewn with
fragments fallen from the crackling, stone-vaulted ceiling.
Through the breaks light streamed from the level above us.

We picked our way among the debris to a wide crumbling
stairway, crept up it, Ruth flitting ahead. We came
out opposite one of the eye-like apertures. Black against
it, perched high upon a pile of blocks, I recognized the
long, lean outline of Ventnor, rifle in hand, gazing intently
up the ancient road whose windings were plain
through the opening. He had not heard us.

"Martin," called Ruth softly.

He turned. A shaft of light from a crevice in the gap's
edge struck his face, flashing it out from the semidarkness
of the corner in which he crouched. I looked into the
quiet gray eyes, upon the keen face.

"Goodwin!" he shouted, tumbling down from his perch,