III

THE HOUSE OF DUST


The geologist, strong man that he was, and by profession an investigator
of the unknown--Van Emmon--took the lead. He stalked straight ahead into
a vast space which, without any preliminary hallway, filled the entire
triangular block.

Before their eyes were accustomed to the shadow--"Pretty cold," murmured
the architect into the phone transmitter; it was fastened to the inside
of the helmet, directly in front of his mouth, while the receiver was
placed beside his ear. All three stopped short to adjust each other's
electrical heating apparatus. To do this, they did not use their fingers
directly; they manipulated ingenious non-magnetic pliers attached to the
ends of fingerless, insulated mittens.

Before they had finished, the builder, who had been puzzling over the
extraordinary suddenness with which that cloud of dust had settled,
received an inspiration. He was carrying note-book and camera. With his
pliers he tore out a sheet from the former, and holding book in one hand
and the leaf in the other, he allowed them to drop at the same instant.

They reached the ground together.

"See?" The architect repeated the experiment. "Back home, where there's
air, the paper would have floated down; it would have taken three times
as long for it to fall as the book."