floor; dust that must, be Ramey realized suddenly, the detritus of ages. The wheezy puff they had heard as the door swung open was proof that the cubicle was nearly airtight. That which eddied about them now, tickling their nostrils, must be the dust of less permanent materials than metal and wood, disintegrated by slow years. Those whorls beneath the seatless chairs might once have been rush or tapestry; the thick, powdery fluff on the pallet be the residue of vanished bedsilks.
But it was foolish to conjecture on things vanished when so many tangible wonders greeted the eye. For as Sheila had said, a ladder climbed the near wall to the ceiling; on the wall before one of the chairs was a panel, and on this panel—
Ramey's eyes bulged.
"Doctor!" he cried. "Those dials! Those levers!"
Dr. Aiken was staring at the panel like one who sees a lifetime of reason and learning collapse before him. "I—I can't understand it!" he stammered weakly. "Machinery? But the ancients had no knowledge—"
RAMEY, moving forward, kicked something. He bent and picked it up. It was as incomprehensible as the panel. It was a metal arch about three feet long, supported by a crossbrace upon which was mounted a sealed cylinder, also of metal. The instrument was equipped with a rest carven to fit the shoulder. Its semi-circular portion was pierced on the outer rim at one-eighth inch intervals with tiny holes, and where the hoop joined the cylinder there were what seemed to be two handgrips equipped with finger-studs.
Instinctively Ramey raised it to his shoulder. It balanced like an archer's crossbow, except that it had neither stock nor projectile grooves. That it was a weapon of some sort he had no doubt. An impulse stirred him to press the stud beneath his trigger finger, but he subdued it. It would be folly to test a weapon of unguessed nature in such confined quarters.
In this weird moment he had forgotten everything save his own excitement. Now a cry dragged him back from the world of wonder to the world of actuality.
"The door!" roared Lake O'Brien. "It's closing!"
Whirling, Ramey saw the unguarded metal shield swinging shut. With a hoarse cry he leaped toward it. His shoulder and that of Lake smashed it at the same time. But the bruising impact was in vain. Even as they struck it there came the snick! of clasping locks. They were sealed in the metal cube. And Syd O'Brien's voice told why.
"It didn't close!" roared Syd. "It was closed on us—intentionally! Tomasaki!"
Ramey, glancing about him, realized that of their number all were present but the little brown man. Suspicion, latent until now, flared into sudden understanding.
"Then he's the one! The one who showed the Japs the 'plane, told them who I was! He's been with them since the beginning. Sneaked around to betray us at the east gate, and probably shot Sirabhar himself when Sirabhar tried to warn us."
Lake boomed, "By God! That's why he offered to go after supplies! So he could reveal our hiding place. He's probably gone to fetch the Japs now, the traitorous little—"
As ever, Dr. Aiken's head was levelest in a crisis.
"There are Quislings in all races," he said sadly. "It's too bad we discovered the enemy in our midst so late. But
