Dr. Vernon and I hurried out of the room. He paused to double lock the door behind him, and we went down to the hall. We found Bill and Ellen both waiting at the front door, each holding a 30-30 carbine.
"There's one of the red ships out there!" the girl cried. Eager and flushed with excitement, she was very beautiful.
The Doctor unbuttoned his shirt and pulled out a slender tube of glass. It had a bulb at one end, with a metal shield behind it, and a pistol grip and trigger at the other. He examined it critically and turned a little dial. The tube lit up with a soft, beautiful scarlet glow. He pointed it at a vase of wild flowers, that Ellen must have gathered, on a side table. Their brilliant colors faded until leaf and petal were white.
"P-p-p-p-pocket edition of the Vernon Ray machine," he said.
He slipped it out of sight in his pocket, and Bill swung open the door. A strange red airplane was stopped twenty yards away. The fuselage was a thick, tapering, closed compartment, with dark circular windows. The wings were curiously short and thick, as if they were somehow folded up, and I thought the propeller very large.
An oval door in the side swung out, and a little, weazened man sprang out on the ground. An astounding person! He wore a uniform of brilliant red, decorated with a few miles of gold braid and several pounds of glittering medals. He had leathery black skin, sleek black hair, and furtively darting black eyes. A deep, livid red scar across his forehead and cheek gave his face a queer demoniac twist that was accented by his short black moustache.
"Vars! Herman Vars! After us again!" the Doctor muttered in evident amazement.
The dark little man walked briskly up to the door, and saluted the Doctor, with his medals rattling. "Good morning, Dr. Vernon," he said in a queer dry voice. "I trust that you are well—you and your beautiful daughter. I need not ask how work is progressing on your remarkable invention, for I know that it is completed," he laughed, or rather cackled, insanely. "Yes, Doctor, you have given the world a great weapon, one that it will never forget!"
He was laughing oddly again when the Doctor asked gruffly, "What do you want?"
"Why, a friend of yours and mine, who has been of service to us both, informs me that you have in this building quite a large supply of the rare radioactive metal, thorium, of which I think I have a greater need than you—"