"Shut up," said someone fiercely. "Shut up, all of you. I hear something."
They quieted, and listened. Price could not hear anything but the tense mass breathing of the men. Then on the far side of the room first one man and then several began to dig like dogs after a rabbit into the heaped-up rubble.
"Here it is! Here it is—look!"
"What is it? Let's see."
"Ain't nothing but a little bitty box—"
"No! It's one of their contraptions! Let me through!"
A man in a linen shirt of green and yellow came bursting through the crowd, carrying something high over his head in one hand. He put it down on the stand, where it lay buzzing gently.
"Is that Vurna, or ain't it?"
Everyone drew back and away from it, as though fearing it might explode. It was a little metal box no bigger than a cigarette case, but Price knew what it was. He stepped forward and smashed it underfoot.
"You'd better clear out of here," he said. "Fast. That was a radio transmitter, broadcasting a steady guide signal to bring the Vurna right here."