Then, and only then, Stephen Duane's tense fingers unclenched. The flesh which had housed Eric von Rath slumped to the floor like a bag of sodden meal. It was then, too, Stephen Duane turned to the woman of Daan.
"Now, indeed," he said, "can I suffer any change a happier man. It was worth waiting—Loala!"
The cry burst from his lips. Shocked, he leaped across the chamber to where the two technicians bent anxiously over their fallen princess. Brushing them aside, Steve lifted the girl's head, cradled it in the crook of his elbow.
"Loala!" he cried. "My princess! What—?"
Then understanding struck him.
"Von Rath!" he whispered. "His weapon! As it flew from his hand, its rays struck you!"
And the silver woman's eyelids lifted slowly.
"Yes, Steve of Emmeity," whispered Loala. "It was meant for you. But I am almost glad it happened thus."
Steve whirled to the chief surgeon.