CHAPTER IV
To the North Pole
"You stand back! You do not touch me!"
The Venus girl fairly hissed the words. Her eyes were dilated; her white hair hung in a tumbling, wavy mass over her shoulders. She stood tense—a frail, girlish figure in a short, grey-cloth mantle, with long grey stockings beneath.
We were startled. Georg stopped momentarily; then he jumped at her. It was a false move, for before we could reach her, with a piercing cry, she was tearing at the instruments on the table; her fingers, with burns unheeded, ripping the delicate wires, smashing the small mirrors, flinging everything to the floor.
A few seconds only, but it was enough. She was panting when Georg caught her by the wrists, and we others gathered around them.
"Ahla!" Elza cried in horror.
I can appreciate the shock to Elza, who had trusted, even loved this girl.
Dr. Brende stood in confused astonishment, staring at the wreck of the instrument table. From a naked wire a little black coil of smoke was coming up. I fumbled about and switched the current out of everything.