Wolverton found me as I knew he would. I was aware of him even before he saw me. It surprised me that he had located me so quickly—but that was the only unusual thing about it. His air-boat came slanting down toward my hiding place, but I did not move. He stepped out and came toward me, but I did not fly though every muscle in my body screamed for flight. When he was close enough I reached for him, but my grip slipped harmlessly away. Still, this did not surprise me for I had not been able to touch him before—and was he not the Father of Evil? But when the glinting metal flashed violet in his hand and the stunning shock locked my muscles in rigid paralysis—I was afraid—but then it was too late—
I was again lying upon the narrow white table while the doctor massaged my stiff body. Slowly a feeling that was agony came back to my numbed body and I stirred weakly. "Fool," the doctor said. "Did you think to escape from him?" There was bitter acid in her voice, mixed with an odd note of admiration. "You had courage to try but you should have known you wouldn't succeed."
"I nearly did," I said, "and I would have if he had been slower to pursue. In the dark I could have avoided him."
"He would have found you though it had been as dark as the bottom of the Pit."
"I would have been gone."
She laughed. "You do not know him."
"I know he is the Father of Evil," I said.
"You are wrong—he is not that—he is merely different—older—wiser—but not evil."