"Quit stalling!" Ranson snapped. "Get going! I...." The words faded on the T.I. man's lips. Faintly, in the distance, came the strains of soft eerie music!
"Good God!" Ranson's eyes darted about the laboratory. "That ... that's the same as Haller and I...."
"Exactly, Mr. Ranson." Elath Taen smiled thinly. "Listen!"
The music was a caress, soft as a woman's skin. Slow, drowsy, like the hum of bees on a hot summer's afternoon. Soothing, soporific, in dreamy, crooning chords. A lullaby, that seemed to hang lead weights upon the eyelids. Audible hypnotism, as potent as some drug. Clearer with each second, the melody grew, coming nearer and nearer the laboratory.
"Come ... come on," Ranson said thickly. "Got to get out of here."
But his words held no force, and Elath Taen was nodding sleepily under the influence of the weird dream-music. Ranson knew he should act, swiftly, while he could; but the movement of a single muscle seemed an intolerable effort. His skin felt as though it were being rubbed with velvet, a strange purring sensation filled his brain. He tried to think, to move, but his will seemed in a padded vise. The music was dragging him down, down, into the gray mists of oblivion.
Across the laboratory Elath Taen had slumped to the floor, a vague smile of triumph on his face. Ranson turned to the direction of the music, tried to raise his gun, but the weapon slipped from his fingers, he fell to his knees. Sleep ... that was all that mattered ... sleep. The music was like chloroform, its notes stroked his brain. Through half-shut eyes he saw a door at the rear of the laboratory open, saw a slim, dark, exotic girl step through into the room. Slung about her neck in the manner of an accordian, was a square box, with keys studding its top. For a long moment Ranson stared at the dark, enigmatic girl, watched her hands dance over the keys to produce the soft lulling music. About her head, he noticed, was a queer copper helmet, of a type he had never before seen. And then the girl, Elath Taen, the laboratory, all faded into a kaleidoscopic whirl. Ranson felt himself falling down into the gray mists, and consciousness disappeared.
Steve Ranson awoke to find himself still in the laboratory, bound securely hand and foot. Opposite him Elath Taen was just struggling to his feet, aided by the dark-haired, feline girl.
"I ... I'm all right, Zeila," Taen muttered. "It was necessary that I, also, hear the sleep-melody, in order to overcome our snooping friend here. But look—he's coming to!"