A stammering voice came from the heart of the color-sphere:
"Port o' Porno, Satellite III—Port o' Porno, Satellite III—Port o' Porno Sat——"
Dr. Ku Sui interrupted him; leaned forward.
"The house is number——?"
"574—574—574——"
"Ah!" breathed the Eurasian. "Port o' Porno! So near!"
Ku Sui returned the switch and pressed one of the buttons. The pool of colors faded; the laboratory returned to comparative dimness. The machine in its center seemed but a great web of wire.
Slumped in the seat within it was a slender figure, his flaxen head bowed over on his chest, his eyes closed, and sweat still trickling down his unconscious brow.
And lying on the floor was another unconscious figure.
Friday had fainted.