A man even six feet tall might easily have frightened Mr. Wordsley into a nervous breakdown by staring at him with that gaunt, hollow-eyed stare, but this creature, though manlike, was fully fifty feet tall, incredibly elongated, and stark naked. Its hair was long and matted; its cheeks sunken, its lips pulled back in an expression which might have been anything from a smile to a cannibalistic snarl.
Mr. Wordsley cried out.
Captain DeCastros heard and came running across the intervening distance with swiftness incredible in one of his bulk at this gravity. His blizzer was out. It was one of the very latest models of blizzers. Very destructive. Mr. Wordsley had always been afraid to touch it.
He fired, and part of the plateau beneath the titan's feet fell away in a sparkling shower. The creature vanished.
DeCastros was red-faced and wheezing. "That was Malmsworth," he said. "Now how the devil do you suppose he managed to stick it out all these years!"
"If that was Malmsworth," Mr. Wordsley said, "he must be a very tall man."
"That was merely dimensional mirage. Come along. We'll have to hurry if we catch him."
"Why do we want to catch him?" Mr. Wordsley said.
Captain DeCastros made a sound of sober surprise. Even of pious wonder. "Malmsworth is my only brother," he said.