"Now!" Barry turned to the girl. The party had been under his command from the beginning. Even the Martians had at last recognized that this Earthman was a leader.
"Hypnotize the old Martian. With a willing subject, you can produce a deep hypnosis. Command him to think of the Crypt, remember every thing he ever heard about it, or saw in it, from the time he was an infant!"
Deisanocta's eyes bored into the rapt, obedient face of the old Martian. She murmured softly, sleepily in their tongue. The other's face slowly smoothed, his eyes going blank.
Her words became sharp, commanding, insistent. Under their leashing, the old one's brow furrowed. He was remembering, digging deep into forgotten recesses of his mind. At last Deisanocta spoke to Barry.
"I see the Crypt seventy years ago. This one was here as an infant in his father's arms.
"It was different. There are fewer bodies. Their clothes are strange. None bear the wounds of battle."
"Remember what we're looking for," snapped Barry.
"I am deep down in the Crypt," came the girl's voice, weaker. "Deeper than even I have ever been. I do not know the part. There is something here, something big—I cannot make it out. It is very faint in this one's mind."
"Tell him to lead us to it," said Barry. "That will save your strength."
Seconds later they were following the old Martian through a labyrinth of tunnels. He moved rapidly, unhesitantly, his face wooden and intent. Deisanocta was beside Barry, her hand in his.