John Thorn, peering through the grating in the door of the hiding place, stiffened in every muscle as he saw the men. One of them was a tall Saturnian captain of guards. Another was an obese, waddling figure with a puffy green face and pig-like little eyes — Jenk Cheerly.
But it was the third man of the group, the one who strode in front, upon whom Thorn's eyes riveted. This man was a middle-aged Saturnian of tall stature, with a bony, nervous green face and very deep, dark eyes that stared gloomily straight ahead.
"Haskell Trask!” murmured Sual Av in Thorn's ear, his faint whisper surcharged with excitement.
Haskell Trask, self-appointed Leader of the League of Cold Worlds, absolute dictator of Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune! Thorn's pulse pounded at sight of that bony, nervous face.
"Why are no guards on duty here as I ordered?” Jink Cheerly was asking the captain of guards in his squeaky voice.
"I did station two here, sir,” replied the officer, worriedly, to the fat spymaster. “They must have sneaked out for some reason. I'll have them court-martialed for it."
"I should have put my own, Secret Police here instead of depending on you,” said Cheerly in vicious anger. “You've failed in your duty, Captain."
"No man must fail in his duty now!” declared Haskell Trask in his harsh, high, fanatical voice. “In this great hour when we approach our fated destiny, every man in the League worlds must give his all for the tremendous and glorious work that faces us!” Haskell Trask spoke as though he were exhorting a crowd a thousands, his voice incongruously declamatory. His gloomy eyes flashed with a deep fire, his tall, bony figure rigid.
John Thorn felt a chill as he heard. The voice and face of Trask were those of a madman, a man utterly convinced of the rightness of his actions and the wickedness of his enemies.
The captain hurried ahead to the door of Lana's cell and was turning the invisible beam of a wave-key on its lock. Trask and the fat Uranian spymaster halted and waited.