"No!" he commanded. "They have surrendered; we have their weapons. That is enough."
"But these are the Daans, O Slumberer," protested one Clansmother, "who have annually levied tribute on our people, despoiled our villages, seized our crops, chosen the strongest of our men and women and transported them to slave miserably in the stinking swamps of their native planet—"
"Nevertheless," avowed Steve, "there shall be no more slaughter. We will hold these prisoners as hostages—Yes, Chuck? What is it?"
Lafferty had burst through the mob excitedly; now he clutched his friend's arm. "There's one guy around here is goin' to be murdered—if I have to take him out somewhere and do it myself. The dirty, connivin' scoundrel—"
"Who?" demanded Steve. "What are you talking about?"
"Von Rath!" screamed Chuck. "That's who! Steve, I warned you not to trust him. The dirty Nazi rat has murdered you, just as sure as if he stuck a knife in your back—"
A quick pang of fear coursed through Stephen Duane's arteries. Even as his suddenly-dry lips framed the question, he thought he knew its answer. He said harshly, "What—what did he do?"
"Do?" howled Lafferty. "Drag him out here, Beth, so we can see him! I'll tell you what he done! He set Rodrik free! And Rodrik's on his way back to Sinnaty, hell-on-fire, to tell them that you're one of the Slumberers—so they can destroy you by remote control!"
CHAPTER XI