Converts to Tarrano's cause were everywhere. In the Central State many welcomed the coming of his army. And now from the Great City his propaganda was being sent to the Earth. Murmurs from our own Earth public were beginning to be heard. The ignorant lower classes seemed ready to swallow anything. A new beneficent ruler who guaranteed everlasting life! Throughout the ages people have flocked to that same standard!
In Mars, much the same was transpiring. At almost her closest point to the Earth these days, Red Mars sent us constant helios from the midnight sky. The Little People had appointed a new ruler to take the place of him who had been assassinated. The Council there put the assassination to unknown causes. Tarrano was held blameless. The Little People declared themselves neutral. But they gave prompt official recognition to the Tarrano government of Venus. And everywhere throughout Mars the public was stirred by the thought of everlasting life.
"Fools!" muttered Georg. "That Little People government—they'll have a revolution of their own to fight at this rate. Can't you see what Tarrano is doing? Working everywhere with propaganda—working on the public—the gullible public ready always to swallow anything——"
On Earth, lay the crisis. Our own governments only had taken a firm stand. What could Tarrano do with this ultimatum? Either he must yield himself and the Brende secret, or a war in which he would be immediately overwhelmed here in Venia would follow.
It was nearly ten o'clock that first night. Elza had gone to the balcony. We heard her call us softly, but with obvious tenseness. Out there we found her pointing excitedly. A few hundred feet away and somewhat below us was a tower similar to our own. In one of its oblong casements a glow of rose-light showed. And within the glow was the full-length figure of a girl. We could see her plainly, though a small image at that distance with the naked eye, and our personal vision instruments had been taken from us. A slender, imperial figure—a young girl seemingly about Elza's age. Dressed in a shimmering blue kirtle, short after the Venus fashion, with long grey stockings beneath. A girl with flowing waves of pure white hair to her waist—a girl of the Venus Central State. She seemed, like ourselves, a prisoner. An aura or barrage was around her tower. She stood there, back in the tower room, full in the rose-light as though surreptitiously trying to attract our attention.
As we gathered on our balcony, behind the glow of our own barrage, she gestured to us vehemently. And then, with one white arm, she began to semaphore. One arm, and then with both. Georg and I recognized it—the Secondary Code of the Anglo-Saxon Army. We murmured the letters aloud as she gave them:
"I am——" Abruptly she stopped. A violent gesture, and she disappeared; her rose-glow went out; her tower casement was dark. On a lower spider bridge Tarrano had appeared. He was crossing it on foot toward our tower, his small erect form advancing hastelessly, with the figure of Argo behind him.
He reached our lower entrance, cut off the barrage there, and entered. Argo replaced the barrage, lingered an instant, gazing upward at us with his habitual leer. Then he retraced his steps across the bridge and disappeared.
A moment more, and in our lounging apartment Tarrano faced us.