Slowly the tube car ascended until its nose towered far above the heads of the milling crowd which by this time surrounded the terminal. Suddenly a harsh click told that the steel arms had gripped the Vator. Friction rollers whined as they rotated the car until its massive door coincided with the barrier gate.
As Andrews and Randall watched, the guard unlocked the gate and slid it into its slot, then unbarred the Vator door and pushed it open.
"All out for American Terminus, Ladrigo, Brazil," he called in a routine monotone.
Not a sound came from the interior of the Diamvator. The guard hesitated a moment, then stepped through the door into the tube car.
Within ten seconds he reappeared, fright etched on drawn features.
"Mr. Andrews!" he rasped from stiff lips. "It—it's happened again!"
Andrews' heavy features sagged. "No!" he said huskily. "No, it couldn't!"
Then with a bound he was through the Vator door with Randall at his heels. Inside, it took a moment for Randall's eyes to accommodate to the dimmer light. Then he saw that the interior of the Diamvator was remarkably like a comfortable drawing room in a luxurious home.
Several beautifully inlaid walnut tables occupied the central portion of a mirror-like floor. Gleaming chrome and leather chairs were spaced around them. Luxurious davenports and huge easy chairs ringed the circumference of the room, and the whole inviting scene was softly but pleasantly illumined by high-frequency tubes set flush in the domed ceiling.
Randall's glance made the complete circuit of the room before the astounding fact crashed through to his mind that there was not a single person in the room!